


Without you here, life is just a lie

by LilyRosePotter



Series: Boyband Save America [1]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Boyband Save America, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: After five years as the world’s most popular boyband, PSA splinters, then breaks. It takes 12 years to get back together.





	1. Chapter One: My heart’s already breaking baby go on twist the knife

**Author's Note:**

> Just two short months ago I knew nothing about _any_ directions. Unfortunately for me (lucky lucky me), Maggie "made a secret vow" to get me into 1D when we became friends that, um, took on a life of its own. I blame her for and owe her everything.
> 
> Sev, whose friendship is the best thing this AU has given me, read every line and every draft of this from chatfic to completion, prompted the addition of multiple scenes, made sure I never lost a ship, and loved on every idiot boybander, band entourage member, and fictional child. 
> 
> Katy got dragged along for the ride and cried at me about the angst and the fluff alike. Screech and Heather read the random snippets that got flung at them and answered questions and encouraged me.
> 
> (please please for the love of god don't mention the existence of this fic elsewhere on the internets)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the morning, it’s over.

The worst thing is that he does it in front of everyone. That’s how Jon knows that he truly doesn’t matter in this calculus, that when Lovett says he’s done he _means_ it. They’re a little more than halfway through the tour and he’s going to spend the rest of his life wondering how long Lovett’s been sitting on this bombshell.

After the show, everyone is camped out in Emily and Hanna’s hotel room, where Emily has manhandled Jon into a chair to trim his apparently devastatingly split ends. Emily keeps glancing at Kenzie, making sure her daughter is sleeping soundly in Tommy's lap while he’s earnestly telling Tanya and Elijah about some video that either features puppies or fancy stage lights; Jon lost the thread a while ago. Hanna is showing Lovett something on her phone. He looks distracted, just like he has for the past couple weeks, and he doesn’t smile when Jon makes eye contact with him. Dan walks in the room from his phone call with Sarah and Lovett stands up from his perch on the bed.

“Hey guys,” Lovett says. “Guys!” he repeats when Tommy and Em both keep talking over him. “I’m- I have something to say. To all of you.” He’s staring at the wall. Jon twists to see what’s so fascinating and Em taps him lightly on the neck with the scissors she’s still holding.

“Don’t move! Do you want me to cut your ear off?” she chastises. Lovett makes an annoyed sound. “Sorry, sorry. Continue,” she says, picking up another strand of Jon’s hair.

“I’m leaving.” Elijah’s phone drops to the ground and Emily’s scissors close with a sickening hiss that makes Jon reflexively wince. Then he processes what Lovett said.

“You’re what?” That’s Tommy. Emily’s hands grip Jon’s shoulders tightly. He feels like he’s floating above himself.

“I’m leaving. I’m leaving the band. As soon as, as soon as we can figure out what the best way to handle it is.” The slight stumble is the only indication Lovett’s feeling any emotion at all as he calmly discusses leaving the group that’s been his family for five years, _leaving Jon_.

“What? Why?” Dan asks, voice shaking with confusion or anger or hurt. Likely all three. “Is there, like, something we can change? Are you unhappy?”

“I’m just done,” Lovett says sharply. “No you can’t change anything. I’m signing for a solo album tomorrow. That’s why I’m telling you now. Tanya and I can figure out what statement to put out and I don’t know, we’ll cancel my hotel rooms or whatever.”

“Just like that? You didn’t think this was something we should talk about together?” Jon doesn’t recognize his own voice until he’s on his feet, the words too measured for the way they feel like they’re exploding out of his chest.

“What’s there to talk about?” Lovett says flatly. He’s still staring at the wall and that’s what makes something in Jon snap. “I’m not going to be in the band anymore, I literally could not have less to do with how you all handle it going forward.”

“What about your boyfriend?” Lovett’s head finally whips towards him and Jon feels a sick relief at how wide his eyes get. “Don’t I have something to fucking do with it?”

“You’re not my boyfriend,” Lovett says bitter and harsh. “You’re the bandmate I’m currently fucking and when the paparazzi got a compromising photo and your twitter fans liked it you decided to do what what you do best and play ‘let’s have a PR relationship.’ Good news for you, you can quit that now without being the bad guy. It’s a nice thing I’m doing for you, really.”

“I… is that really what you think of me?” His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. He knows that the press and the fans think that he’s some shiny smooth playboy but he didn’t think _Lovett_ thought that. He didn’t know Lovett thought a lot of things apparently. “You think I’d pretend?”

“I know you pretend,” Lovett says, eyes hard. “Everything about you is so fucking fake.”

“And your wall between yourself and the world is so transparent? It was so _real_ to not tell anyone you were making this huge decision?”

“You fucking hypocrite.” Lovett is yelling now. “You were looking for the same thing! Now that you’ve outgrown us, or did you never want to be in the band in the first place? When were you going to tell Tommy and Dan about the offers huh?”

“I turned them down!” Jon screams back. He can’t believe… He told Lovett about the solo album offers in confidence. In a _maybe someday, what do you think_ way. In a _this terrifies me but this is probably going to end some time do you think I’d ever be good enough_ , secret insecurity way. And not only did Lovett hide this decision, he’s flinging Jon’s deepest secret at him like it’s the same thing. “I turned them down and you know that!”

“Cause you were too afraid to go for it,” Lovett spits. “You weren’t good enough on your own before and you don’t think you would be now, and your deepest fear is that things won’t stay exactly the same. Guess what Jon! Life doesn’t work like that! Things fucking change.”

Jon feels Lovett’s words like a punch to the gut. A hit that fills him with a blinding ache of rage and pain. “And you think you’re good enough?” If Lovett’s going to burn it all to the ground he can’t do it so lightly, so easily. Without looking back. “You’ve never been dedicated or consistent enough to carry your weight on the team without someone riding you. There’s no way you make it on your own.”

“Fuck you Jon.” Lovett’s voice is cold and controlled again. Jon can’t believe he’s this calm while Jon’s whole world is falling apart. “Fuck you.”

There’s a small choked noise from across the room and Jon abruptly remembers that they’re doing this in front of their whole fucking team. Their whole family. He sees the same realization flash across Lovett’s face before he looks away from Jon and walks towards the door. It slams behind him with a bang and Jon stares at it until his eyes blur.

He’s not sure how much time passes before a hand lands on his shoulder. There are vague sounds of murmuring and movement all around him but he can’t focus enough to figure out what’s happening. The hand on his shoulder transitions to an arm around his back, tugging him forward.

Jon only registers that he’s been steered into another hotel room when he’s gently pushed down onto the bed. “Hey, dude, you’re scaring me,” Tommy says softly, the bed dipping as he sits down and wraps both arms around Jon.

This must be Tommy’s room, because Jon’s room is also Lovett’s room, because when they checked in today they were dating and now they’re… he chokes back a sob and Tommy’s hand strokes his back slowly. _Lovett’s leaving,_ he thinks, and then he forces himself to think it again. _Lovett’s leaving the band, Lovett’s leaving you. He doesn’t care if you cry. Maybe he never did_. Jon leans into Tommy’s chest and lets himself break.

  


***

 

They make one more album. It’s both the hardest and easiest writing that they’ve ever done. Jon has always been the most brilliant writer among them. After a month of getting too drunk and fucking groupies after shows, he seems to channel all his emotions into writing, churning out songs like a machine. Like he used to in the early days, but they’re so much better. Tommy is pretty sure that he and Dan don’t even get to see half the songs Jon is writing.

Tommy himself finds songs coming to him, just like always; in the shower, in the middle of a run, while surrounded by girls in a bar. Over the years he’s gotten a lot better at holding them until he can write them down, losing fewer ideas to inconvenient locales than he did as a teenager. He feels like he’s writing from muscle memory though, not any inspiration. He just feels hollow, writing without the echo of laughter around the room, without being randomly interrupted by someone dropping into his lap to complain about petty indignities.

Dan is private about what he’s working on. He just periodically presents them with a brilliant and totally finished song. Dan is private about everything, since Lovett left, pulling back from Tommy and Jon in small almost imperceptible ways. He proposes to Sarah right before the album drops, comes into the rehearsal studio smiling the first real smile Tommy’s seen in months.

The album does well, predictably. The publicity is, rough. Everyone wants to know what it’s like to be three instead of four, what they think of the solo album, whether they’re all still friends. Tommy smiles through tight lips and recites careful talking points while Jon and Dan sit stiff on either side. He’s finally able to stick to a script when the alternative is laying this ugly truth bare: they’re not okay. Three doesn’t work when it should be four; Tommy listens to Lovett’s songs every night, searching for answers in the lyrics and in the key changes; some days they barely speak to each other, let alone Lovett. The band is still functioning, but it’s like the whole world has been dimmed.

The tour helps. They’re so busy, as always. They need each other, as always. A month in, Jon grabs Tommy’s hand after the show, quirking his lips in a question that’s familiar, but sadder than Tommy’s ever seen it. Tommy follows him up to his hotel room, undressing them both and kissing Jon’s neck in silence, pushing Jon back onto the bed and slowly opening him up. Neither of them speaks until Jon’s eyes close as Tommy hikes his leg up over his arm. “Look at me Jon,” Tommy says roughly. They can do this, just like always, but Jon _can’t_ lie there and pretend. Tommy has to pinch his thighs a couple times but Jon is staring at him when they come, almost in unison, tears in his eyes. Tommy cleans them up and curls around Jon’s back, rubbing gentle circles on his arms as he shakes himself to sleep.

The album goes platinum on Tommy’s birthday. His birthday party in Tanya’s hotel room quickly becomes a double celebration, the whole team drunk and happy, almost forgetting the two holes in the room. Well maybe Tommy’s projecting. Maybe everyone else managed to stop searching every room for Lovett months ago, maybe they no longer turn with a cautious eye for Elijah’s camera. He knows he’s being stupid, so what he never thought he’d turn twenty-three without Lovett, there’s a lot of things he’s going to do without Lovett.

Tommy sneaks out on the balcony after about an hour. He can _breathe_ out there, sitting on the cement, back leaning against the glass of the sliding door. He’s absently pressing chord progressions onto his legs, thinking about the song he’s working on, when the door slides open behind him. He looks up to see a girl he doesn’t recognize stepping out. She notices he’s there when her foot hits his knee.

“Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was out here!” she says, turning like she’s going to go back inside.

“It’s okay,” Tommy says easily. “Come on out, there’s room for two.” She flushes, but steps all the way outside and gingerly lowers herself to sit in the remaining space, leaning against the railing. He should introduce himself but he can’t swear he’s not meant to know who she is. He thinks he’d remember meeting her, she’s gorgeous; short and dark haired, with a shy smile as she sits that feels like light shooting at him. It’s happened before though, someone he’s been introduced to in a press of people, affronted that he re-introduces himself.

“Hey, I’m Katie,” she says, rescuing Tommy from his thoughts. She provides the explanation before he thinks to ask. “I went to high school with Sarah.”

“Ah, that’s cool. I’m Tommy.” He offers his hand to shake and she takes it with a giggle.

“Yeah I know,” she says. She looks amused but she doesn’t have the particular shine in her eyes of a super fan with whom this could get awkward fast. “Why are you hiding from your own party Tommy?”

“I’m not hiding,” he says automatically. Katie raises her eyebrows at him and he sighs. “I needed a breather. ‘S loud in there, lots of emotions.”

“I get that.” She smiles at him before turning her head to look off the balcony at the skyline. “So what’s your favorite part of Phoenix?”

“We’re in Phoenix?” Tommy deadpans, glad when she laughs again. “I don’t know. I went to the Desert Botanical Garden with the girls today, that was pretty cool. Lots of plants you don’t see all that often.” Jon had claimed a headache and Dan and Sarah had been visiting her family, but Hanna and Em and Tanya had insisted on taking him out for his birthday.

“Tommy Vietor, you are as big of a nerd as they say,” Katie says and he shrugs in assent. “My mom and I used to go to the Botanical Garden all the time, they used to have a whole kids area with all kinds of rocks you could stack to build like cairns.”

“Oh cool! I don’t think they have those anymore but they did have some cool water play things that Kenz had a lot of fun with.” Katie’s reply is cut off by the door sliding open behind them.

“Hey Tom,” Jon says, kind of sharply. “We’re cutting the cake, stop flirting and come back inside.”

“Jon…” Tommy says in rebuke but Jon has already turned away, face hard. “Sorry about him.” Katie shakes her head and they step inside the hotel room where everyone starts singing Happy Birthday. Tommy doesn’t even mentally sort the voices to pick out the missing notes. Small victories.

 

***

 

Jon trips over a tangled set of cords backstage after their second to last show. Dan reaches out to steady him before he can actually fall and he grins affectionately. “There will be less cords involved in solo touring right?”

Dan laughs with him, shaking his head, but when he turns towards Tommy, Jon’s surprised to see that his face is dark. “Your life is going to be so much better all around,” Tommy says bitterly. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jon says aloud and Tommy’s scowl deepens.

“Look I know you’re eager to ditch us and live out your golden boy dreams, but you could at least wait to celebrate your freedom or whatever until we’re actually done.”

Jon’s floored. Sure, he’d been the one who suggested that they stop after this tour, that they give the band a break, find new things. But Dan and Tommy had agreed pretty easily, they’d had a lot of discussion about logistics and press announcements, but they’d all been on the same page. Tommy’s solo album contract had come after Jon’s, but they’re both headed in the same direction. He doesn’t know why Tommy has suddenly lost his chill.

“Don’t call me a golden boy,” Jon snaps, because Tommy knows he hates that.

“What should I call you then Jon? Self-centered? Emotionally distant?” Tommy’s voice is rising fast, like they’re not backstage with the whole road crew around them, fans still in the theater. Jon is still reeling, but his confusion is rapidly being replaced with anger because what a fucking hypocrite.

“Oh I’m emotionally distant?” he asks coldy. “You’re one to talk Tommy, no one ever knows how you feel, you’re just here for the sex and the _good times_.”

“You know that’s not true Jon!” Tommy cries, face somehow both pale and red. He looks… heartbroken. “You know this band, this thing we’ve created is my family. You know I love it with my whole heart and you’re just willing to let it die. You’re just going to throw it all away like it’s nothing!”

Jon’s brain skitters to a halt, even as he responds sharply. They’ve all been miserable. It hasn’t been working, they aren’t having fun, they needed a change. Everyone’s hurting, the band isn’t the same, they made this decision together. Right?

“If I’d said no, would it have made a difference?” Tommy yells. “You would have left me anyway.” Before Jon can respond, Tommy turns on his heel and storms away. Jon stares after him, trying to regulate his racing heart until Dan puts a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t… I didn’t make you guys do this, did I?” Jon asks, turning towards Dan. Everyone else has pretty much cleared the area, so it almost feels like they’re alone as Dan looks at him consideringly.

“I don’t know Jon. We _did_ agree and I don’t think it’s a terrible time to hit the pause button. But…” he pauses like he’s sorting out the words in his head. “We wouldn’t have, if you didn’t bring it up. Your heart’s not in it, we can’t keep going. Tommy gets that, he’s just, sad about it.”

Jon hums in acknowledgement and lets Dan steer him towards the door. When they get back to the hotel, he spends twenty minutes knocking on Tommy’s door. Tommy doesn’t answer, doesn’t even acknowledge his presence. He hates fighting with Tommy. They fight so rarely, but it’s always so fierce.

The only upside is that they fight fast. Tommy gives Jon the silent treatment for the next couple days, but by the time they’re soundchecking for their last show, he’s friendly, if quiet. Before they step onstage, Jon notices that Tommy’s mic cord is sticking out and reaches out to adjust it automatically. Tommy turns over his shoulder to give him a quick, tired smile.

“Ready?” Jon asks, meaning so much more.

“Let’s do this,” Tommy says, reaching out to squeeze his hand as the announcer’s voice fills the arena for the last time: _Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for PSA_.

After the show, Jon’s changing for the afterparty when there’s a knock on his hotel room door. Tommy steps inside and closes the door behind him soundlessly before wrapping Jon in a tight hug. They hold each other for a minute before Jon says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy says. “Me too.”

They stay close all night, every casual touch feeling significant and final. When the party’s over, Tommy squeezes his hand and Jon follows him back to his room one last time. Tommy presses into him like he’s trying to bind them together, keep them linked long after they’ve both softened. They spend the night curled close. In the morning, it’s over.


	2. Interlude A - I can be the one you love from time to time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time they hook up goes like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a series of flashbacks taking place during the first few years of boyband-ing  
> ( _chapter includes consensual sex between teenagers_ )

The first time Tommy and Lovett hook up goes like this. They’ve made it through their first live performance and are all riding high off the success. All four of them are giggly and hyper in the living room late into the night and at some point, Lovett pauses mid bit and drops into Tommy’s lap and just stays there. He can’t stay still of course, and Tommy is immediately and uncomfortably aware of just how much Lovett  _ squirms _ . 

When Dan says, “it’s late, we have shit to do tomorrow, I’m going to bed,” Jon follows him to their room amiably and Lovett is still in Tommy’s lap. Tommy’s hands have found their way onto his thighs, resting there to hold him steady, and Lovett’s head is tipped back against Tommy’s shoulder. 

After what seems like a long time Tommy says, “so should we... go to bed?” He pauses for just a tiny bit of emphasis that Lovett can take or leave and Lovett twists in his lap until he’s looking Tommy head on. They’re both still running on adrenaline and Tommy can hear the space between their heartbeats when Lovett leans in to kiss him. He’d have expected it to be fumbling, neither of them with any experience to speak of, but once their lips meet it’s just easy easy falling.

Tommy doesn’t know how much time passes, just making out on the couch before he over balances and tips to the side. Lovett grabs his shoulders like he's going to stop him falling but only succeeds in adding his weight to Tommy’s. They end up sideways on the couch with Lovett on top of him, pressed really close together. They're giggling, but then all of a sudden they're not. 

Open mouthed sloppy kisses give way to almost unconscious movement, then Tommy spreads his knees and Lovett falls between them and  _ oh _ . Tommy wraps his hands around Lovett's hips, moves him to a position that feels right. 

It doesn't take very long. They're both pretty far gone by the time they figure out the rhythm. Tommy comes first. Still breathing heavy and harsh he moves to reach a hand down between them and Lovett shakes his head blindly and  _ shifts _ . They lie there, panting and sweaty and messy, Tommy suffocating in Lovett’s hair but unable and unwilling to do anything about it for a long time before they drag themselves to the shower. 

After they’re clean and warm, they tuck into the same low bunk bed, cozy in pajama pants and t-shirts, like it’s any of a dozen other nights where Tommy falls asleep in the middle of a conversation, tipped against Jon’s shoulder or with Lovett curled against his chest. 

With the ice broken, they do it again, and again, and again. They spend about a year mostly hooking up with each other: pulling each other into closets backstage, pushing each other into club bathrooms, taking their time when they have hotels rooms and space. Almost everything Tommy knows about sex he learned with Lovett; trying and failing together, experimenting and having fun, trusting each other to find limits they didn’t know they had, loving and easy and non-judgemental.  Even when they branch out and start picking up at bars and clubs after the shows, when Tommy is sleeping with Dan and Jon and the musicians and fans, Lovett’s his most trusted place to try something new or repeat something old or just  _ be _ .

 

***

 

The first time Tommy and Dan hook up goes like this. It’s just easy. Tommy’s been experimenting with his own boundaries, hooking up with fans, taking venue staff to his hotel room, enjoying the desirability that comes with fame. He’s been wanting this though. Wanting to try with Dan. 

Tommy curls around Dan in the hotel bar one night, wrapping his arms around his shoulders from behind and pressing his face into Dan’s neck. He's not that drunk, he's just in a mood and he wants to try this. Dan's hands come up over his and squeeze and he drops his face to gently kiss Tommy’s wrist.

They stay like that for a while, half watching some game on the TV. They’re wrapped together so tightly and Tommy is hyper aware of the heat of Dan’s body against him while Dan finishes his drink. Dan finally pushes back his stool and wraps an arm around Tommy to steer him to the elevator.

Dan’s just such a solid presence beside him always. He’d call himself stocky but Tommy always thinks of him as big, big in a way that could cage him in, keep him grounded. Tommy is tall, but he’s not consistent enough working out on tour to build any muscle. Lovett is comfortable and tiny and fits Tommy just right. He’s been wanting to know, what having Dan like this would be like. 

They get off the elevator and Dan looks down at him, suddenly awkward. “Come on,” Tommy says, turning towards his room. He knows how to do this part, knows how to lead, to take the plunge. He hopes Dan will take over sometime, but if Tommy needs to ease them into it, that’s achievable. 

When the door clicks shut, Tommy twists to wrap his arms around Dan’s neck. Dan’s only got an inch or two on him, but it’s still novel to tilt his head up to be kissed. He presses his tongue to the corner of Dan’s mouth. That touch is like flipping a switch. Dan’s mouth opens to him, even as he starts pushing Tommy backwards until they land on the bed with a thump. 

It’s easy to lose himself in the way Dan presses him into the mattress, better than he’d imagined. They fumble to get their clothes off without breaking contact, their lips only separating to get Tommy’s t-shirt over his head. Dan’s kisses are soft and sweet. Tommy finds himself stroking Dan’s back slowly as they move together, sweat slick and quiet. 

An eternity later, Dan’s hand moves down. Tommy grabs his wrist to halt its progress. “Hey Dan will you, will you fuck me?” 

Dan’s eyes go wide. “Tommy.”

“Please,” Tommy says clearly, trying to convey with his eyes the things he can’t say. “I want you to.” Dan breathes out harshly and nods. His fingers feel huge compared to Tommy’s mental measuring stick of Lovett’s hands and he’s squirming back on to them immediately. 

Dan is slow and so so careful. Tommy breathes unevenly, trying to make encouraging noises to move. him. along. Finally he pauses. “Are you. Are you ready?” he asks, like it’s his first time fingering someone when Tommy knows full well it’s not. 

“Dan,” Tommy says clearly. “Put your fucking dick in me.” Dan laughs and then obeys. Tommy’s still got the ghost of that laugh on his lips when he comes, Dan leaning over him to kiss his breath away.

 

***

 

The first time Tommy and Jon hook up goes like this. They’re in the middle of their second tour, watching a baseball game in Tommy’s hotel room. Dan and Lovett disappeared after dinner to work on lyrics so it’s just the two of them with a six pack. 

They’re talking about their hookups from last weekend when Jon says, out of nowhere, “I've never hooked up with a guy before."

Tommy laughs, easy and loose, "you want to?" It’s common knowledge, at this point, that Tommy will go either way and both ways at once. Sex is  _ fun _ no matter who it’s with. He assumes Jon is setting up some strange joke or making one of the strangely philosophical drunk observations he’s wont to do, though two beers normally doesn’t get him that far. 

He realizes it might not be a joke when Jon’s eyes shift back to the TV, as he says, fake casual, "idk, maybe?  Seems like it could be fun— Did you see that call? What a disgrace.” He’s shrugging so hard his shoulders hit his ears.

Tommy is still mostly joking when he responds.  "Fucking terrible. What is the umpire even there for?— It's really fun. Y'know, kinda different than with girls but also like, still sex."  Jon makes an active listening noise and Tommy shrugs. "If you ever want to try it, you know where to find me," he says, because it’s true and because he doesn’t think Jon would ever. 

Jon doesn’t respond right away. He gets up to get another beer, handing one to Tommy as he sits back down, a lot closer than before. “If Mortensen doesn't get it together by the bottom of the 5th, they're gonna pull him.” Jon settles in and spreads his legs out as he says, “I've never done this before, it probably wouldn't be very good for you."

Tommy feels like a jolt of electricity goes through him as he realizes that Jon isn’t joking. He turns slightly towards him on the couch. Jon is flushing, not quite meeting his eyes. Tommy strains for casual as he throws his arm around Jon on the back of the couch like it’s any other day. He takes a breath that he hopes isn’t too obvious and says, "bet you'd be a natural"

Jon chokes a little on his beer and Tommy reaches for it, putting both bottles aside on the table. Jon starts to say, "God, that was terrible, they need a run-" but then Tommy rests his hand on Jon’s knee, more deliberate than he ever has before, and Jon trails off. 

Tommy pauses for a second to gather his thoughts. If they’re doing this, Jon has to be sure. They can’t cross this line without doing it intentionally and together.  He’s serious when he asks, "Jon, do you want to?" 

Jon’s only response is a soft moan. Tommy freezes and says firmly, “I'm really gonna need you to answer." Jon nods and Tommy sighs. “Verbally?”

Jon has to take a deep breath before he says shakily, "Yeah... yes Tommy, yes I want to,” like it's the hardest thing anyone's ever made him say. Tommy eyes him warily. Jon hates to be excluded, hates to feel like he’s missing information that other people have.

"You sure?" Tommy asks again. 

This time, instead of answering, Jon puts his hand on top of Tommy’s and pulls it into his lap. Yeah, he wants this.  Tommy grins, slow and easy, and then moves to straddle Jon on the couch. Jon sucks in a breath and Tommy leans in to kiss him. He’s gasping for air when Tommy pauses and Tommy laughs at him and says “god breathe through your nose, I  _ know _ you’ve kissed before.”

Jon lets out a choked little laugh and then laughs for real as he grabs Tommy's hips to manhandle him a little further into his lap. A cheer from the screen interrupts their kiss. Tommy looks at Jon, assessing, and then stands up. Jon whines, just a little bit, but then Tommy holds out a hand to pull him up and tugs him towards the bed. Jon trips a little, but follows him.

Tommy’s brain feels like it’s working overtime, planning and assessing. He wants to, he needs to make this good for Jon. Prove that whatever Jon has heard about his sexual prowess is true; make sure that Jon wants this again because he’s not sure he can give up the idea now; but mostly, it needs to be good for Jon because it’s  _ Jon _ .

So Tommy takes him to bed, lays him down, and takes his time. He peels Jon out of his shirt and kisses at the blush on his cheeks before tugging at his jeans. He realizes he’s staring when Jon ducks his head and moves over him to kiss him again. Jon stops him with a hand on his chest. “Yours too,” he gasps, still not properly breathing. Tommy’s taken his breath away which is hot as hell. 

Once they’re both down to their boxers, Tommy climbs on top of Jon and very slowly covers him in kisses until he’s squirming wildly, still gasping unevenly. “You’re so hot,” he says, as he kisses Jon’s hipbone, which makes Jon moan desperately. He wants to hear that noise again. “So fucking gorgeous.” He lets Jon squirm and moan for another minute before he tugs his boxers off, kisses his ankle and crawls back up to take Jon’s dick in his mouth.

Tommy knows he’s good at this, but it’s still a pleasant surprise when Jon is so distracted, arching into his mouth that he doesn’t seem to notice Tommy awkwardly reaching for the little bottle of lube on his bedside table. Jon looks adorably confused when Tommy lifts his head with a pop of his lips to ask, “can I?”

Jon nods desperately, gasps “yes, Tommy, you can, everything.” So Tommy swallows him again and trails his fingers along Jon' thigh, twirls his tongue around his dick to distract Jon from his fingers. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted anything as much as he wants to fuck Jon right now, but he has to make this good. Jon’s hips jerk up as Tommy’s finger presses in and despite himself, Tommy gags a bit. Jon immediately drops his hips, crying, “sorry, sorry.” He squirms backwards like he’s going to move away but Tommy takes his free arm to press down on his hip. 

He crooks his finger and Jon melts back into the mattress. Tommy goes slower than he’s maybe ever gone, opening Jon up. Slow to make it good for Jon, to make sure he’s ready, but also to revel in the feeling of Jon, tight around him. He takes Jon just to the edge, leaves him there as long as Tommy can bear before he adds the second finger, stretching Jon wide. Jon gasps Tommy’s name and then he’s coming down Tommy’s throat. 

Tommy swallows and pulls off. Jon is collapsed on the mattress, staring at him wide eyed, lips slightly parted. He’s painfully hard in his own boxers but he can barely tell, he’s so focused on Jon.  Tommy wants to kiss him so he does, dropping messy kisses on Jon’s stomach and chest before arching over him to find his lips. “You’re so hot,” he murmurs. Jon’s still staring at him, Tommy’s fingers are still in his ass. “You want more?”

Jon moans and nods. “You’re doing so well,” Tommy says, moving his fingers again, slowly. “I told you you were going to be a natural.” Tommy’s been with guys who look away after they’ve come and with Jon’s entrenched Catholic guilt, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Jon was one of them. But Jon’s eyes are locked on his, glowing faintly with the praise. 

He alternates praise and kisses to Jon’s stomach and hips, moving his fingers smoothly, until Jon’s hardening up again. “I’m going to add another finger now,” he tells him, gratified when Jon’s hips jerk in response. Tommy mouths at the tip of his dick as he pushes a third finger in.

Jon is pushing down onto his fingers and whimpering, begging for it. Tommy is sure that the smile on his face is absurd, but Jon is just so  _ much _ like this, desperate and responsive and gorgeous. He wants to pull Jon’s leg over his arm and do this face to face, but it’s Jon’s first time so he rolls him over, keeping his fingers in place. 

He bends to kiss Jon’s spine and reaches for one of the pillows above his head. Jon’s been nonverbal for a while, but the noises he’s making right now aren’t even syllables, just loud and punched out of him. Tommy pulls at his hip and he takes the hint and lifts himself slightly off the bed so Tommy can squeeze the pillow under. “You ready babe?” he asks, surprising himself with the pet name. 

It works, he decides, when Jon yelps a noise that can only be agreement. Luckily he’s practiced enough to slide on a condom and slick himself up one handed, because he can’t bring himself to stop touching Jon. Tommy scissors his fingers a couple more times before pulling them out and Jon barely has time to whine before Tommy is carefully lining himself up. “Breathe,” he tells Jon as he presses forward, mindful of his own choking, gasping, shooting off in three seconds, first time being fucked. 

He moves forward slow and careful. Tommy’s entire world has narrowed to the feeling of Jon around him, the slope of his back in front of him. “Is this good? You okay?” he asks desperately. Jon groans and pushes back against him, which might be all he can ask for right now, so he takes it as a yes and starts to move.

Tommy has fucked a lot of people but Jon is tight and good and pressing back against him. Jon’s moving his head a bit, like he’s trying to look back at Tommy but can’t manage it, still making glorious sounds and that’s what makes Tommy lose it. It’s Jon’s first time and he’s so clearly into this, so clearly into Tommy.

He moves his hips faster and with less coordination as he gets close, sloppily reaching around to get a hand on Jon’s dick. Tommy loses his rhythm and Jon pushes back, trying to match him, but all he manages to do is tighten up. That's it for Tommy. He comes sudden and hard, collapsing onto Jon’s back, breathing deeply between Jon' shoulder blades.

His hand is loose and still on Jon's dick, until Jon grunts and pushes back. It almost hurts Tommy’s so sensitive but it reminds him that he's checked out a bit and Jon is still so hard. The handjob is honestly kinda sloppy, not his best, but it does the trick and Jon’s elbows wobble and then collapse as he comes.

Jon comes back to himself first. He huffs a small laugh where he’s pressed into the mattress under Tommy, rolling his shoulders up to nudge him. “I thought you’d done this before, did I break you?” he murmurs. Tommy rolls his hips down in reprimand but obligingly pulls out and rolls off. He ties off the condom with shaking fingers and tosses it, reaching blindly for the closest t-shirt to wipe at Jon’s sticky stomach. 

The necessary tasks accomplished, he pulls Jon close. “Stay?” 

“Course,” Jon says soft and sleepy. In the morning they wake up hard and do it again. 


	3. Even my phone misses your call by the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family he’d helped build so carefully had moved on without him and grown around his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(cw: implied drug use)_

“Hey,” Tommy greets cheerfully as he walks into Dan’s hotel room. Dan looks up from where he’s struggling with his bowtie by the mirror.

“Hey. Tux looks nice,” Dan says, because it does.

“Thanks, you too.” Tommy’s eyes sweep over Dan and he holds himself still under his gaze. It’s been, christ, almost six months since they’ve seen each other in person and he’s not sure he wants to know how he looks different. Tommy himself looks thinner in a subtle way Dan’s not sure he’d pick up on if he didn’t know him so well. Exhausted. Tommy’s eyes stop near Dan’s throat where his tie hangs, rumpled by his frustration. “You need a hand with that?”

“Even prep school dropouts learn how to tie a bowtie?” Dan teases him, stepping forwards and dropping his shoulders to open space for Tommy to get closer.

“Learned it first day of kindergarten.” Tommy laughs. “I’m actually shit at it, but I’m a little better on someone else.” His face screws up with concentration. Dan tries to stay as still as possible as Tommy’s familiar hands brush across his neck and chest.

He doesn’t mean to ask. He really doesn’t. It slips out, surprising himself, as Tommy pulls at the tie. “Have you talked to him?”

“Shit,” Tommy says as the knot slips out of his fingers.

“Sorry.”

“Nah it’s…” Tommy bites his lip and starts again. “I haven’t. Left him a couple voicemails but I’m sure he’s not rushing to get back to me.” Dan winces reflexively. He can imagine the contents of those voicemails. Tommy doesn’t handle disappointment well. Nor does he remain calm when he thinks his friends have been hurt.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Dan says. Tommy gives the tie one last tug and steps back, satisfied. Dan puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him before he can move away. “The only people he hasn’t totally shut out seem to be you and Em. Don’t push him farther away for me.”

“I feel pretty shut out Dan. Also, I’m going to read him the riot act when he fucking deserves it.” Tommy says sharply. His next words are muttered darkly under his breath. “Cancelling a goddamn week out.”

“It’s okay Tommy. He’s busy.” Tommy shoots him a look, but he doesn’t say anything in response.

He does get it. Jon has a crazy touring schedule. The interview had been a last minute event, slipped in, reducing his break between shows from three days to two. Turning around a weekend in Nashville back to London is insane. He’d apologized, he’d sent a nice gift. Dan gets it. It’s just… he’d have crossed the world twice over for Jon.

“Anyways. You’re here,” Dan says firmly.

Tommy grins at him. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says, voice light but sincere.

There’s a knock on the door and his brother pokes his head in. “Come on Dan, let’s get you married.”

 

***

 

The door swings open before Emily can even knock and she feels an immediate surge of relief. It’s replaced by intense confusion as a tall blond guy she doesn’t recognize pushes past her. She peeks around the door to see Lovett standing in the middle of his apartment, a strangely vacant look on his face.

“Emily,” he says flatly when he sees her. He should be surprised. He didn’t know she was coming. He looks as terrible as she’d feared; unhealthily skinny, a week’s worth of facial hair patchy on his cheeks. His hair is sticking up in all directions, greasy like it hasn’t been washed in weeks. He’s only wearing a holey t-shirt and boxers, arms clutched close to his chest. She’s known it was bad for a while, but she didn’t anticipate how much it would hurt to look at him like this.

“I called,” she says, in response to the question he didn’t ask. “A lot of times.” She called and Hanna called, they texted him and emailed him and Facebook and Twitter messaged him, they sent Elijah to his apartment and Lovett slammed the door in his face.

It’s been a week since the gossip magazine got a picture of him in a bar and that horrifying quote:  _honestly, I’ve never felt less inspired to do anything, let alone write music_.  In desperation, she’d gotten his agent on the phone and found out they’d finally dropped the contract for the second album, after over a year of his failure to turn out any music.

“My phone is… somewhere.” Lovett gestures vaguely. He might mean somewhere in the apartment or somewhere in the world and she guesses it doesn’t really matter as she actually looks at his apartment for the first time.

It’s a total disaster. He’s never been neat but this is something else. He’s downsized since the last time she was in New York. There are empty bottles everywhere, a few takeout containers and empty bags that once held chips strewn on the counters and floors. Every cabinet door in the kitchen is open and most of the cupboards are totally empty. There’s a giant pile of unopened mail, mostly bills, on the floor by her feet. There are clothes all over too, and she toes aside a shirt that can’t possibly belong to Lovett as she crosses the floor gingerly.

“Who was that, by the way?” she asks, remembering the guy shoving out of the apartment.

Lovett shrugs. “I dunno.” She frowns as she sees the obvious hickey on his neck. He’s never been one for anonymous sex, that was Tommy. There’s been a whole string of boyfriends that he’s not careful about the press finding, but a guy he doesn’t even know the name of is very new.

Emily takes a deep breath, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the disaster in front of her. Okay, first things first. She puts a gentle hand on Lovett’s shoulder and he flinches slightly at the touch. “You need a shower hon.” He bites his lip but doesn’t resist as she steers him towards the bathroom.

She’s even more fiercely glad than she already was that she talked Hanna out of coming with her and bringing Kenzie when her eyes land on the open bottle of pills on the bathroom counter. “Oh Lovett,” she says involuntarily and he tenses under her hands. She strokes down his shoulders slowly and then lets him go to turn the water on. “Do you have clean towels?” she asks, looking around the bathroom which is just as much a disaster as the rest of the apartment. He shrugs. “Okay, I’m gonna look, you shower.”

In the hallway, bathroom door not quite closed behind her, she puts her head in her hands for a second and draws several breaths before fishing her phone out of her pocket and texting Hanna.  _It’s really bad. I’m glad I came. I’ll call when I can_. She googles a pizza place nearby and calls to order delivery before wading into his bedroom to look for a towel. It takes her a good five minutes, but she finally locates a towel that’s not actively damp or smelly and a hoodie and shorts that seem clean. Laundry is definitely high on the list.

She pokes her head into the bathroom to hang them on the back of the door and then surveys the living room. By the time Lovett ventures out, looking small and timid, but slightly less awful than before, she’s gotten the trash into bags and most of the clothes into a hamper. The mail is going to have to be sorted and she’s mentally composing a grocery list of things she can freeze for him, but it’s starting to look like an apartment inhabited by a human being.

“There’s pizza on the way,” she tells him softly and he nods, looking around, wide-eyed. Emily walks towards him slowly, afraid that he might actually bolt, he looks so tense.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lovett says when she reaches him, in a voice so small she wouldn’t have heard it if she was any farther away.

“We don’t have to.” Emily reaches for him, relieved when he lets her pull him close into a hug. “We’re going to sit on the couch and eat pizza and watch really dumb movies all night.” His shoulders shake in her grip and he lets out a choked breath. She kisses the top of his head. “And tomorrow I’m going to cut your hair, because this is tragic.”

 

***

 

“So he’s leading me through the streets of Paris with his guitar, I actually thought we were going to be so lost. I looked up and we were right under the Eiffel Tower on the Champ du Mars and I didn’t even realize!” Katie is telling the story for what, by Tommy’s count, is the fourth time during this party alone when he gets to the drinks table for a refill.

He’s trying to figure out how he’s going to carry four cups when he’s grabbed from behind. He yelps undignifiedly and almost tips over his beer before he realizes who’s behind him. “Watch it asshole,” he says amiably, throwing an elbow into Dan’s chest. Dan chuckles and drops his arms, stepping around next to him.

“Look at you all grown up and getting engaged and fetching drinks,” Dan says, reaching out a hand to take a cup from him. Tommy rolls his eyes even as his smile gives him away.

“Can you keep a secret?” Tommy mock whispers. Dan leans in close next to him as he picks up the remaining cups carefully.

“You know I can.” Dan looks good. Being a settled down, boring adult suits him. The marriage and the house and the production studio. He looks comfortable in his slacks and button down. Tommy can hear the echo of a joke about how he looks like someone’s middle aged dad and the answering echo of a full bodied laugh in the empty space next to him but he ignores them.

“I’ve been sent on this mission to switch Hanna’s tea for caffeinated,” Tommy says conspiratorially. Dan laughs, low and long. “Apparently it’s an ongoing battle and she’s dying a slow death.”

“You’re not scared of Emily killing you in your sleep for risking the life of her unborn child?”

“Honestly?” Tommy says, looking across the room where Emily is hovering, as all reports say has been her default state for the past six months. “The more immediate worry seems to be being the closest person when Hanna snaps. Pregnancy seems awful for everyone involved.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, but his eyes are soft and Tommy follows his gaze to Sarah, who’s piggybacking Kenz towards her moms. So that’s coming soon then.

Kenzie reaches out for Tommy as soon as he and Dan get close and he laughs, handing Hanna her cup and his own before peeling her off of Sarah’s back and flipping her upside down.

“You’re getting too big for this,” he tells her with mock sincerity. Kenz just giggles maniacally. “You know, once you turn eight you can’t use people as jungle gyms any more.”

“Uncle Tommy!” she cries, outraged.

“I’m kidding baby girl,” he laughs, shifting her to his shoulders and passing her the cup of juice in Dan’s hands.

Emily looks at him skeptically over her own cup. “How much sugar did you feed my child Tommy?”

“It’s a party, Emily.”

“You spoil her,” Emily says, but there’s no venom behind it. “When are you going to move to California so you can spoil her for real?”

Tommy grins. They’ve been teasing him about moving closer since they bought their own house. Since his tour ended a month ago, Em’s asked him just about every day where they’re going to settle down. “Well, I  _might_ have some good news for you.”

“Oh my god!” Hanna squeals.

Kenzie hugs his head, leaning down to get close to his face. “You’re moving?”

“Is that okay?” Tommy asks, tilting his head up towards her.

She pretends to consider it for a second. “Yeah I guess that’s okay. Are you gonna get a dog?”

“One thing at a time sweetie,” he says. “I gotta find a house first. And like, plan a wedding. But I’ll be able to take Leo on walks with you all the time.” He looks down at Emily and Hanna and feels his smile go wider. “And cuddle the baby.”

 

***

 

“Do you want more water Ella?” Tommy asks, holding out the pitcher. Katie pinches his thigh under the table but he ignores her.

“I’m Hope…” Jon’s girlfriend of the week says, not as offended as he hoped she’d be.

“Sorry, I’m bad with names,” Tommy lies. Jon kicks him under the table, hard. “Ouch,” he says mildly. Jon scowls at him.

“Hope, how was your salad?” Katie asks a little too loudly. Tommy ignores her answer to meet Jon’s stare across the table. Tommy and Katie flew to Atlanta for the weekend to see  _Jon_  for his birthday. Jon’s busy, obviously. He has two shows to do, it’s not like Tommy expected his full attention the whole time. But he thought they might get one meal that’s just them, without a full discussion of ‘totally washed out’ lighting in a modeling shoot.

So Tommy wanted a tiny bit of time with his best friend without hovering waiters and paparazzi leaning in the windows of the ostentatious restaurant Jon and Hope chose because the name of their game is being seen. Jon knows he’s trying to pull back from that spotlight. He’s allowed to be a little grumpy.

“I need to find the bathroom but I always get lost in this place,” Hope whines. Tommy can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Katie pinches him again.

“I’ll go exploring with you,” she volunteers. Tommy turns to look at her as she stands up. She makes a face at him and jerks her head slightly towards Jon.  _Talk to him_.

When the girls are out of earshot, Jon leans across the table. “Dude what is your problem!” he hisses. “You’ve been such a jackass all night. I know she’s not like, the most interesting person but jesus Tommy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I love to hear about the color matching of pants to furniture for hours,” Tommy says sarcastically. Jon huffs out a breath. “This is only the second time I’ve seen you in person in the past three years Jon, maybe I don’t want to talk about modeling.”

Jon’s face softens, just a bit. “I’ve been busy. You know how touring is.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees flatly. _That’s why I quit_ , he doesn’t say.  _I saw Dan four times in the year and a half I was on tour. I saw Emily and Hanna and Kenz like every other month and now I live ten minutes away from them. You’re missing Kenzie growing up, you’re missing everything. Touring is busy but you could make a fucking effort._  “I know.”

“You guys seem happy,” Jon ventures after a minute. “Wedding plans going well?”

“You just want to know when it is so you can plan to skip it.” Tommy says it like its a joke, even though they both know it isn’t.

“Tommy…” Jon looks hurt.

“It’s going great,” Tommy plows on. He doesn’t actually want to get into all the ways Jon has disappointed him in this restaurant. “There are more shades of white than you can possibly imagine. We’ve been looking at invitation suites for decades.”

“Ooh are we talking weddings?” Hope squeals as she drops back into the booth. Katie is giving Jon and Tommy a strange look behind her. Tommy widens his eyes at her questioningly and she shakes her head.

“Tommy’s probably complaining about the roses again,” Katie says easily, sitting next to him and reaching for his hand to squeeze.

“The roses looked like snails,” Tommy says, like he’s expected to. “I don’t have an opposition to snails on our stationary but we should be intentionally going for snails if we’re choosing that aesthetic.”

“ _I_  have an opposition to snails,” Katie replies. “But these were roses and they were  _pretty_.”

“What are your colors?” Hope asks. Tommy leans back into the corner of the booth as the girls chatter, determinedly looking at Katie’s face to avoid Jon’s eyes, but feeling them bore into his head all the same.

 

***

 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Sarah says, sitting gingerly next to Dan on the couch. “But it’s been four days. You think you’re ever going to put him down?”

“No.” he says stubbornly, eyes not leaving their newborn son in his arms. “I’m just going to learn how to navigate the world with one arm, the other one is always going to be busy holding him.” She laughs, high and clear and he turns his head to kiss her cheek. “Thank you,” he says for what might be the millionth time and isn’t even close to enough. She smiles and wraps an arm around his back, leaning into his side.

They’re still close together when the doorbell rings. “That’ll be Tommy,” Dan says. He’d insisted on getting a cab from the airport. “It’s open,” he calls louder. The door opens and there’s a blur through the living room as Kenzie flies in, shoes squeaking as she comes to a stop in front of Dan. “Hey sweetie.” He reaches out a hand to squeeze her shoulder.

“Thanks for all your help Mackenzie. Really glad I brought you along,” Tommy snipes as he drags an indeterminate amount of bags through the doorway. “Hey guys.”

“Hey man,” Dan greets him. He nods at the bags. “Are you staying for a month?”

“Emily and Hanna sent presents. They’re experts now, you know.” He drops the bags and crosses the living room quickly, leaning down to give Sarah a hug. “How are you doing?”

“Tired,” she says, laughing a bit.  “We don’t  _need_ any more stuff oh my god.”

Kenz makes an impatient noise and Dan laughs as he turns back to her. “Yes honey?”

“We’re here to see the baby not make fun of my moms!” she says insistently.

“She has a point,” Tommy laughs. Sarah scoots down the couch and Dan pats the seat next to him for Kenz. She drops down onto it and stares, wide eyed, as he gently puts the baby in her arms.

“Kenz,” he says seriously, while Tommy giggles in the background. “Meet your cousin, Wallace Everett Pfeiffer.”

“He’s so small,” she whispers, carefully cradling him.

“Riley was that small four months ago,” Tommy reminds her.

“Yeah but, he’s not anymore,” she says, doing a decent impression of a kid already over her baby brother but for the smile. Wally stirs a little and his eyes open, looking directly at Kenz. “Hi baby!” she coos. Dan smiles at her and looks up from her delighted face into Tommy’s bright smile as he takes a picture on his phone. He doesn’t know that he’s ever going to stop smiling, honestly. Life seems about as good as it’s ever going to get.

  


***

 

Emily doesn’t know when the boys became more than just her clients. She’s not sure when the band’s whole team became a family. She got asked about it by journalists who’d gotten behind the scenes, by the documentary director. She asked Hanna once and Hanna had laughed, “Does it matter?”

It might have been the first time they all fell into the chairs hungover, two months after she started working with them. When Lovett leaned his head back against her stomach while she set a washcloth on his eyes to try to reduce the puffiness. He’d looked heartbreakingly young and vulnerable, the kid that he was, and Emily felt a swell of protectiveness for the boy eight years her junior with so many eyes on him.

The guy who’d done their hair and makeup before her had quit right before their first tour because they were “too immature, impossible to work with” but Emily never felt that way. For one, having a six month old when she started gave her a good perspective on maturity, but mostly, while they were goofy and ridiculous and didn’t care all that much about the minutiae of their image, they were never anything but kind and respectful to her, even when she made them get up too early.

It might have been the day Emily came in late, flustered from a difficult morning with the baby, and gotten chewed out by their manager. She’d been stuck in the hallway, desperately holding back tears, when a hand landed on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s not a big deal, leave her alone,” Tommy said sharply. “Mackenzie needs her mom a lot more than we need an extra twenty minutes. Worst case, Lovett wears his stupid beanie on the talk show.” Tommy had steered her off with an arm around her shoulder and the band had hired Tanya as their new manager less than three weeks later.

It might have been all the times she walked into rooms to find them on the floor with her daughter. Jon lying on his back boosting her into the air; Lovett curled into a pretzel with Kenz and a book in his lap; Dan holding her on his shoulders during soundchecks; Tommy letting her bang her tiny hands on his guitar.

It might have been when Tanya introduced her to the new wardrobe stylist. When Hanna grinned at her from behind a rack of clothes, pushing her face through a curtain of t-shirts and skinny jeans to dimple and say, “I’m excited to work with you Emily, everyone speaks so highly of you!” and Emily’s heart leapt into her throat.

It was definitely before Dan stayed up with her all night when she got food poisoning in Tel Aviv. He stayed by her side, rubbing soft circles into her back after Jon took Kenz to his room with a smile and said, “We’ve got her Em, it’s okay.”

It was definitely before Hanna pressed her into the wall backstage to kiss the surprise off her face. It was definitely before Emily enlisted Tommy and Lovett to help her set up a cliched rooftop dinner, complete with candles and a ring. It was definitely before the boys all sobbed through the wedding from the front row.

It was definitely before the band broke up and Emily looked at Hanna and said, “I can’t do this with anyone else,” and they decided not to look for more jobs in entertainment, decided to set up their own salon and buy a house.

In the end it doesn’t matter when they became a family when Tommy knocks on their door, eyes red, and tells her that Katie left him. Emily’s got the baby on her hip, Hanna and Kenzie are in the backyard practicing for the weekend’s softball game. She pulls him inside and drops him on the couch with Riley in his lap and a pile of blankets and calls the girls from the back.

When they’re all cuddled up with hot chocolate and a Disney movie, Emily calls Jon. He doesn’t answer, of course, and she curses and does the timezone math, realizing he’s either out somewhere drunk or passed out in a hotel room. Dan picks up on the first ring.

Just under seven hours later there’s another knock on the door. The kids are in bed and Tommy’s still on the couch in the same spot, squished between Emily and Hanna. They switched from cocoa to wine two hours ago.  Hanna extracts herself from the pile to answer and returns with Dan in tow. He bends to give Emily a quick hug, then sits down next to Tommy in the spot Hanna vacated.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy croaks.

Dan smiles down at him as Tommy leans into his chest. “I was in San Francisco for a meeting, so I got a rental car and drove down.”

“Dan,” Tommy says brokenly and Dan squeezes him tighter.

“You needed me,” Dan says simply. Emily squeezes Tommy’s shoulder and stands up, taking Hanna’s hand to leave the room. Dan gives them a cursory nod as they go, focused on Tommy. Emily smiles despite the grimness of the situation because at least some things stay the same.

 

***

 

“Have you guys ever seen a baby name that just makes you want to scream and call CPS?” Lovett is saying when Hanna ducks into the comedy club halfway through his set. Drinks with a couple of her sorority sisters were only supposed to take like an hour before surprising him at his show, but of course they dragged on. “Like, polysyllabic names that sound like they ought to belong to somebody’s great uncle Clarence. Who fucking does that? It’s a baby!”

Hanna assesses him expertly from the back of the room while he keeps going with the bit. He’s leaning into it with the refinement of having done this joke before, easy and light. His eyes are still darting around the room, nervous on the stage alone even after all of this. He’s looking a little better, has gained back some of the weight he lost, looks less hunted than he did last time she saw him. Emily thinks doing the comedy sets has been good for him, given him something he feels like he’s good at.

“Anyways, children have enough to bear already, consider the trauma of a ridiculous name when you’re looking at your sweet impressionable bundle of joy. Have a good night!” Lovett concludes, laughing as he walks offstage. Hanna pushes her way through the crowd to meet him by the bar. His eyes widen when he sees her approaching. “He- hey Hanna,” he says, too bright.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Do not let Emily ever hear you say any of that. She is proud of our children’s names.”

“No, not you… not _your_ kids,” Lovett sputters. Hanna grins. She knows who he was talking about and he knows she does, but they don’t need to talk about google alerts and twitter stalking today.

“I know,” she laughs, letting him off the hook with a tight hug. “My kids are perfect.”

“They are,” Lovett agrees, leading her to a nearby table. He reaches out a hand for her phone. “Let me look at them.” They lean together comfortably as he flips through her camera roll and if he pauses a bit too long on a photo of Tommy holding Riley over his head or Kenz carefully holding Wally while Dan looks on with a grin, she isn’t going to say anything.

“How are you?” she asks, tone as light as she can manage, when he finally hands her phone back.

He bobs his head up and down slowly. “I’m alright,” he says firmly. “Really. Tell Em she can worry less.”

Hanna smiles at him. “Have you tried telling her to worry less? That works about as well as telling a bird not to fly.”

Lovett laughs, genuine. That does the most of anything so far to convince her he’s really doing better. “I think I’m gonna get a dog.”

“Good!” Emily’s been telling him to get a dog for years, every time he complains on the phone about being alone in his apartment or lies on their floor with Leo and the kids. “It’s about time.”

“Yeah,” he twists his face. “I think I can take care of it now, y’know? I called the breeder Emily likes last week. Want to see pictures of the puppy I’m thinking?” She grins and leans forward to look at his phone, where he’s already got a dozen photos saved.

 

***

 

Jon is vaguely surprised when he walks offstage after the encore and Tommy is standing in the wings. It’s like shaking himself free from a dream back to reality because obviously he knew Tommy was there, he’s been hanging out with him for two days. That’s actually the wrong metaphor because Tommy’s presence is the part that feels like it’s not reality. In the past four years, he’s gotten too used to Tommy  _not_  being there, a missing limb that he’s adapted around, barely even stumbles over anymore.

Tonight Tommy’s here though, eyes shining as he grins at Jon. “Well done,” he says happily. “Still weird to see you with a guitar on stage by the way, but you rocked it.”

“I had a good teacher,” Jon says to watch Tommy blush. “Wanna get out of here? There’s a decent bar by the hotel.” Tommy nods and Jon leads towards the door.

He watches Tommy carefully in the car, not even trying to pretend he isn’t. He looks a lot more relaxed than he did when Jon picked him up at the airport yesterday. He looks a million times better than he has on their Skype calls the past couple weeks. Tommy catches him looking and smiles ruefully, “I’m really okay Jon. I’m not going to break.”

“I know,” Jon says. Tommy looks unconvinced, which is fine, because he’s also unconvinced. He’s worried, still trying to figure out how to  _help_. He still feels like he’s failing, like there’s an unwritten rulebook for what to do when your best friend breaks off an engagement and he’s doing everything wrong.

Jon had woken up in Milan, hungover as hell because he’s getting to be too old to drink this much after shows, to a missed call from Emily. Twenty minutes later he was on a Skype call with an extremely wrecked looking Tommy, leaning against Dan’s side as Dan held the iPad. It’s been a month and a half and Jon can’t stop thinking about how Dan dropped everything to hold him and Jon couldn’t even answer his goddamn phone.

He’d offered. His brain finds it important to defend that point. He’d told Tommy, “I’ll be on the next flight out if you want me to.”

Tommy said, “No you can’t. You have three shows in the next four nights, you can’t cancel them. I love you for asking, but I’ll be okay you don’t need to come. Dan and Emily and Hanna are here.”

They’d argued back and forth for a few minutes but Tommy was right and Jon knew it. Not that he couldn’t cancel, there’d have been consequences but he could have done it. Tommy was right that Jon was unnecessary. The family he’d helped build so carefully had moved on without him and grown around his absence.

After he hung up the call, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How he’s so fucking out of the loop that he’d had to look at Tommy’s heartbroken face, totally helpless. How the guy who held him on the worst night of his entire life and been by his side for all the best ones is now basically a stranger, all because Jon hasn’t bothered to put in the effort.

Tommy had made his opinion on cancelling shows known and he had a full six months left of this tour, so he checked his calendar to see what he could make work. That’s how Tommy ended up here with him in Vancouver, where they have the same hotel for a luxurious four nights in a row with only this one show. He’s got a couple interviews, but other than that he’s all Tommy’s.

The bar is a quiet dive, tucked away on a side street. Tommy lights up when he sees how empty it is and Jon smiles to himself. “I really like that poster,” Tommy says, crossing the room to look at the far wall.

Jon follows him and looks over his shoulder. It’s a hockey rink, collaged with NHL logos around the edge. “It’s neat.”

“I’m just desperate for decoration ideas,” Tommy admits. “My new house is great and I love being down the block from Em and Hanna and the kids, but its very empty.”

“I feel like the second you admit that to them, you’ll have some very eager helpers,” Jon says lightly. This is the first time Tommy’s brought up a topic that even slightly references the split.

“Oh Kenzie has a million ideas, don’t you worry,” Tommy laughs. “It’s just that she’s nine.”

“Fair,” Jon says, turning towards the bar.

They drink too much, probably. It’s easy, trading jokes and stories at the bar, to lean together and watch the night pass by in the clink of glasses. Jon still can’t stop himself from watching Tommy. Watching the lines of his shoulders as they slip out of his ramrod posture; watching the movement of his throat as he talks and swallows; watching the splay of his fingers as he gestures. He’s more muscled than he used to be, hair cropped shorter, eliminating the curls. But he laughs the same as always, until he’s gasping for air.

It’s the easiest thing to throw an arm around Tommy as they make their way back to the hotel. They duck in the back entrance to avoid the cameras out front and make their way upstairs. Jon doesn’t even think to separate as he digs out his room key and they stumble into his hotel room.

When he flicks on the light Tommy blinks and then steps back. “I should... go to my room probably,” he says.

His face is twisted, not quite upset but it’s not a happy look. All Jon wants to do is make him smile again. It’s an impulse that makes him do it. Without stopping to think about it, he grabs Tommy’s shirt and pulls him close to kiss him.

It feels so right, so natural to be kissing Tommy again. It’s been four years but it feels like it hasn’t been a day as Tommy’s mouth opens up to him, as their hands scrabble for purchase on each other’s backs. Jon’s breathing hard when he pulls back a bit, “Okay?” he checks.

“Okay?” Tommy repeats, looking perplexed. “Yes.” He puts his hands on Jon’s head to pull him closer again. He presses their hips together so that Jon can feel that he’s rock fucking hard too. When they’re suitably intertwined, Tommy topples them sideways onto the bed.

They’re both too drunk and tired and out of practice for much finesse, tugging at each other’s jeans clumsily until Jon pushes backwards and pulls his own pants off before yanking Tommy’s down to his ankles. Tommy kicks them the rest of the way off as Jon grabs his hips and reaches into his boxers with a spit slicked hand. Tommy follows his lead.

It’s too much and not enough and the most right he’s felt in years, jerking each other off in a hotel room. After, they don’t even really bother to clean up, passing out cuddled together, still in most of their clothes.

Tommy doesn’t sleep in his own hotel room again. When they part at the airport two days later, Jon pulls him into a tight hug. “Wish you weren’t going home,” he says to Tommy’s neck.

Tommy smiles at him as they separate and squeezes his hand lightly. “Me too.”


	4. Interlude B - Wanna roll back like press and rewind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’re only going to have a chance to succeed at this music thing if they work as hard as they possibly can all the time, and even then they’re most likely going to fail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second and final flashback chapter
> 
> _(cw: drug use)_

“Oh my god are you even trying?” Dan snaps, when Lovett misses the fucking note for the third time in a row. Lovett’s eyes go wide and it almost looks like he flinches before his face goes blank and he drops his mic on the music stand. He doesn’t say anything as he turns and stalks off the stage. “Lovett get back here, we have to run that harmony again!” Dan yells at Lovett’s back.

Lovett doesn’t even pause, just calls over his shoulder insolently, “I’m starving, I’m going to get a sandwich.”

“It’s ten am! Is Subway even open?” Dan turns around to gather support and finds Jon and Tommy, predictably, not even phased. They exchange a look that he can’t quite decipher, then Jon nods and steps forward.

“I’ll go hurry him along, okay?” he says, clapping Dan on the shoulder as he walks past. Tommy stays where he is, watching Dan carefully.

Dan finds Lovett insufferable. He’s always goofing off and pulling faces during rehearsals, lining up mic stands like dominos to knock them over, showing up late, never focused. Jon and Tommy buy into it hook, line, and sinker; laugh at him like fools, encourage his jokes that _aren’t even that funny_ , and just make it worse.

He’s only two and a half years younger than Dan but it feels like so much more. They’re only going to have a chance to succeed at this music thing if they work as hard as they possibly can all the time, and even then they’re most likely going to fail and Lovett just doesn’t get it. Being on stage is awkward and intimidating enough when they know what they’re doing, if they don’t practice they’re going to look like absolute idiots.

“Hey, chill out,” Tommy says after a minute of staring at Dan. “They’ll come back, we’ll get it done, it’ll all work out.

“I don’t get it,” Dan says, frustrated. Jon’s so clearly head over heels for their least helpful bandmate but Tommy’s logical, Tommy’s always prepared. “You're so good, Tommy, you get what we're trying to do here, why do you put up with it?"

"Just- I know he doesn't always show it, but he's so good. The best of us, maybe," Tommy says. “Have you ever heard him _really_ sing? He’s so good Dan.”

"Why doesn't he do it then?" Dan says sharply. What does it matter how good Lovett is if he never puts it out there. “Why is he always just a pain?”

Tommy sighs longsufferingly. “I know he can be so much but Dan you're really hard on him and I think that makes him dig in because he’s scared of disappointing everyone. Like his reaction to pressure is to make jokes, I don’t know."

“So it’s _my_ fault then,” Dan snaps.

“No it’s- Look do you want to run the bridge while we wait for them to come back?” Tommy asks. Dan _is_ worried about the bridge so he agrees and shoves Lovett’s weird behavior as far to the back of his mind as it can go.

Two days later, Dan’s walking back past the stage to pick up his forgotten water bottle when he hears quiet music. It’s late, he thought everyone was gone, so he walks to the wings to check it out. Lovett’s sitting behind the drum set, absently playing while singing something Dan’s never heard before.

Dan's never heard him like this before, so soft and quiet and hitting all these notes with so much character in his voice. He doesn’t mean to stay there, listening, but he can’t seem to tear himself away.

 _He’s scared_ , Tommy said. Dan can’t imagine what Lovett’s so afraid of, when he can sing like this, but he thinks he’d probably do just about anything to get him to do this on stage. If being nicer, tolerating his stupid jokes will get them there, then that’s what he’ll do.

At first, it’s really just a means to an end. But it works. When Dan makes a conscious effort to be less annoyed, gives the jokes that are actually funny more than a courtesy laugh, Lovett looks surprised at first, but then starts to settle in, work a little harder, try a little more. The change in behavior is confirmation that Dan wasn’t just imagining it and Lovett _was_ purposely trying to piss him off which is annoying as hell on a whole different level. But slowly, as they keep working  and Dan laughs more and Lovett tries harder and the whole thing just _works_ , Dan realizes he’s seeing the real Lovett.

The real Lovett _is_ silly and often unfocused and sometimes over the top. He’s also funny as hell and smarter than Dan had even begun to realize. And his real smile and real laugh, Dan wants to see them all the time.

A month after Dan hears him sing for real for the first time, Lovett grabs his sleeve after they stop rehearsing for the night.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Lovett says, looking uncertain. Tommy and Jon have already left, eager to catch the beginning of the football game.

“Yeah, shoot,” Dan says, striving for casual and missing it by a mile. Lovett never seeks him out.

“I’ve been fucking around trying to write this song and I hit a roadblock, can I go over it with you and see if you can tell where I went wrong?” Lovett asks in a rush, like if he doesn’t get to the end of the sentence Dan is going to decide he’s bored and walk away.

“Of course!” Dan says automatically, only realizing he might have spoken too quickly, too eagerly, when the words are already out of his mouth. The worried lines in Lovett’s face ease into a smile. Maybe it was right after all.

The song is _good_. It’s only half finished and he can immediately see where Lovett’s stuck, but the bones are there and they’re good. “What if you change the key on the second verse?” Dan suggests, leaning over Lovett’s shoulder to point out the spot on his notes sheet.

“Oh shit,” Lovett says. He pokes at the piano keys experimentally and grins. “That’s it, thank you.”

“The song’s really good,” Dan says, sincere.

Lovett ducks his head with a laugh, “Nah it’s not. It’s not like your stuff, that’s what we’re all reaching for, right?”

“Um…” Dan feels his face turn red. His music’s not… Lovett’s teasing him again. “Okay, I should probably…” He steps back to leave. “It’s really good though, I mean it.”

Lovett turns on the piano bench to look at him. “Do you…” He bites his lip, looking shy again. “Do you maybe want to stay and work through the rest of this with me?”

It’s late. Dan should go to bed, rest his voice. But Lovett’s never asked him to hang out before, it would be counterproductive to this tentative friendship to leave, right? And he- he really wants to stay.

“Sure,” Dan says, turning back to sit gingerly next to Lovett on the piano bench. Lovett looks nervous again and it’s instinct that makes Dan say it, hoping to prompt a smile or an eyeroll. “So I'm reading a book about anti-gravity.”

“Okay…” Lovett says, confused.

“It's impossible to put down,” Dan finishes, straight faced. Lovett blinks at him for a second, looking skeptical. Then he gets it and starts to laugh. He doesn’t stop laughing until there are tears in his eyes. It’s deeply ridiculous, the joke was so stupid. But Lovett’s laugh is the best sound Dan’s ever heard.

 

***

 

“I swear to god I’m going to kill him,” Jon says irritatedly as he drops onto the stool next to Dan in the club. Dan slides him his half finished drink without a word and flags down the bartender for more. They’ve spent the last three days doing cleanup after one of Tommy’s groupie hookups did an exclusive with Us Weekly. Tommy tried to fact check with paparazzi before the show tonight and Jon had drawn the short straw on the post-show phone interview to do _new_ cleanup after that mess.

“Maybe don’t go for homicide?” Dan offers wryly. “That’d just be even more interviews. Shots instead?”

“God yes,” Jon says gratefully. They’re four shots in when he circles back around. “Would we all like to go fuck a random fan? Sure? But some of us have restraint and judgement.” Jon whines, as he throws back his fifth shot.

 _Go fuck a random fan_. Dan can’t help him with that, but maybe…

He twists on his stool towards Jon and tries to bat his eyelashes. "You're Jon, right?  I saw you at the show? Can I tell you a secret?" Jon looks really confused, but Dan presses on. Hopefully he’ll get it in a second. He leans closer and stage whispers, "you're my favorite.  I was at the show tonight, and I was hoping you'd notice me. Did you notice me?"

He can see the moment Jon gets it. Jon blinks and flushes deep before waving the bartender down. “Would you like a drink?"

“Oh sure I would!” Dan says eagerly, reaching out to rest a hand on Jon’s knee. His brain is spinning wildly, formulating a haphazard plan. They’ve done this a couple times before, hooked up at times when they just needed to blow off some steam, but they’ve never done _this_.

The most important thing is probably to pretend that he doesn’t already know everything about Jon. What was in that _Teen Vogue_ article last week? “That's a nice shirt, it brings out your eyes.  Good thing your favorite color is blue," he says with a giggle that sounds stupid even as he does it

Jon, as always, can’t keep a straight face to save his life. “Yeah. Yeah it is,” he says, already gasping a bit for air.

It’s counterproductive but Dan can’t resist reaching for the joke. “Is it because of your longstanding affection for The Wiggles? The blue one was your favorite right? I had a bit of a crush on him.” Jon absolutely loses it at that. Two years ago, he’d jokingly told an interviewer that The Wiggles were his musical inspiration and it had been printed as fact. They’ve never let him live it down.

The uncontrollable giggles now are not helping with Dan’s goal though, so he moves his hand up Jon’s thigh until the giggles turn into a bitten off gasp. “So, um, you want to dance?’ he asks, tilting his head towards the floor. Jon just stares at him uselessly.

Dan sighs internally and lifts his hand away from Jon’s thigh, noting how his leg jerks up a bit. He raises an eyebrow until Jon shakes his head, face setting as he commits.

Jon’s a terrible actor, but when he finally gets his head in this game, leans in and tugs Dan off the barstool with a casual possessive arm… Dan’s only human and he’s more than a little bit drunk. Jon holds him up as he trips over himself a bit on the way out to the dancefloor and now it’s Dan who’s giggling uncontrollably.

Just when he’s gotten himself together enough for semi-coordinated grinding, a familiar drumbeat plays over the speakers. “Oh my god,” Jon mutters.

“You should give me a private performance," Dan says into his ear with a fake giggle. Jon flushes deep, still somehow unused to hearing their songs play in public. “Please,” Dan adds, when Jon doesn’t move. His eyes go wide at that though, and he somewhat sloppily pulls Dan towards the bathroom.

The bathroom is filthy, but Dan barely notices. Jon’s fully into the act now which is- hot as hell. He locks the door behind them and pushes Dan towards the ground. Dan falls to his knees as gracefully as he can manage, hands landing on Jon’s hips to steady himself. “Maybe if you impress me I can get you backstage tomorrow night," Jon says, voice low and dark.

Dan can’t stop himself from grinning up at him as Jon unbuttons his pants with shaking, clumsy fingers. He doesn’t do this often and he’s not sure he’s much beyond competent, he’s certainly not Tommy, but he hopes enthusiasm makes up for it. Jon seems into it at least, his fingers in Dan’s hair, tightening against his scalp when he comes. He pulls Dan up for a sloppy kiss after, role completely abandoned.

That could easily be the end, but Dan’s enjoying this too much. He wants to pull Jon back into it. “So um, where are you staying?” he asks, pitching his voice up, trying to make it breathy and giggly.

“I don’t know,” Jon says seriously. He better fucking know, Lovett got lost last month and they’ve all been being drilled about locations by Tanya ever since. “We don’t usually… I have to be careful who knows where we are.” _Oh_. “But if you promise not to tell,” he adds, pulling out his phone.

“Oh I wouldn’t!” Dan says eagerly. “I promise!”

Once in the Uber, Dan notices that Jon forgot to do up his fly. Jon’s sitting behind the driver and the car is dark, so he slides his hand into Jon’s lap, leaving it there, casually. Jon squirms a bit, but stays quiet, while Dan makes conversation with the driver.

“It’s been so busy tonight,” the driver says, sounding kind of annoyed. “There was some show or something for teenage girls."

Dan bites his lip to hide his smirk. _Stay in character_.  "Oh, I was there, it was incredible!" he gushes. Jon is giggling again as they pull up to the hotel and climb out of the car. Dan desperately wants to tease him for how red his face is as they walk into the lobby. _Later_.

In the elevator on the way up, they stand on opposite sides, glancing coyly at each other. Jon shoves his hands into his pockets, still red faced, pants still unzipped. He trips over his own feet exiting the elevator, fumbling for his key card. Honestly, the fact that Jon maintains an image as a smooth playboy has never seemed as absurd as it does in this moment, as he giggles when he finally gets the door open.

Dan hovers in the doorway, performatively nervous. Jon’s supposed to be taking charge here, playing out whatever he thinks it is Tommy does with the fans he fucks around with. “Um, I…” He twists his fingers together until Jon takes his hands in his own and tugs him across the room.

“Come on, don’t play coy now,” Jon says, sounding a bit uncertain. He’s looking at Dan searchingly and Dan smiles reassuringly and winks at him before dropping back into the act.

“I’ve just, never done this before,” he mumbles, shrinking under Jon’s gaze as he pulls Dan’s shirt over his head.

“From what I can see you have nothing to be ashamed of," Jon says, more confident. He pushes Dan backwards onto the bed and goes for his pants.

Jon’s never fucked him before, Dan realizes, as Jon goes straight for his ass. He’s gotten into the bit now, he’s not normally _this_ confident during sex, his hands direct, but still careful. He gasps as Jon’s slick finger pushes in and it’s only a bit performative. Jon’s eyes go darker, so Dan gasps again, spreading his legs to give him better access.

He squirms against the second finger, wiggling experimentally, challenging Jon. Jon raises his free hand to Dan’s chin, thumb teasing at the corner of his mouth as the fingers in his ass stop moving. “Needy,” Jon says, voice still laced with fondness.

Dan lifts his hips with a whine. “Please,” he begs. Jon’s thumb slips in his mouth, just for a second, pressing experimentally against his tongue before he pulls it back, bringing his arm down to rest, heavy over Dan’s hips.

“Stay still,” Jon says, bossy. Finally, his fingers start moving again. It feels like Jon keeps fingering him for hours, with more competence than Dan knew he had in him. His fingers are slender and careful, twisting and pressing _just right_ but never quite enough. The desperation’s not an act by the time Jon’s slowly pulling out, though the whine is a little exaggerated.

Jon’s still teasing, letting go of Dan’s hips to lightly grasp his leaking dick, not applying anywhere near enough pressure. “Come on, please,” Dan pleads, still reaching for the breathy high pitched voice he’s been using all night. “Please fuck me.” Jon squeezes his eyes shut and grabs for his own dick, jerking it twice before lifting one of Dan’s legs over his arm and lining himself up.

“Okay baby, okay,” Jon says, voice low and deep. Dan doesn't even really have to exaggerate once Jon pushes in. The tremor in his thighs is very real. The way he strains upwards against Jon's hold is very real. The high pitched noise he makes when Jon moves just right is embarrassingly real. The way it really doesn’t take that long at all, the way he reaches, blind, to get a hand on his dick and comes immediately, also very real.

He comes back to himself to Jon’s face, tight with pleasure above him, remembers the part he’s supposed to be playing. Dan reaches up with shaking arms to hang on to Jon’s neck; tries to tighten around him; stretches to kiss sloppily at Jon’s cheek. That does it for Jon.

“Oh god,” Jon groans as he collapses on top of Dan.

Dan gives him a minute, gently running his fingers across Jon’s neck and tangling them in his hair before he says, more high-pitched than anything so far, “My girlfriends are never going to believe this story!”

“Oh my god,” Jon yelps, and they both absolutely lose it, clutching at each other’s shoulders through the giggles.

When Dan can breathe again, he’s suddenly absurdly conscious of how sticky they are. “Okay, shower, now. We should order like ice cream or something from room service for after.”

“Good idea,” Jon says, still laughing helplessly as he rolls off of Dan and pushes himself to his feet. He turns and reaches out to pull Dan up, keeping an arm around him comfortably as they make their way to the bathroom, only stumbling a little. “All your ideas are good tonight,” he adds, when they’re under the hot water.

“Yeah?” Dan asks, leaning in to press his lips against Jon’s shoulder. Jon’s hands are still running over his body, gentle and solicitous, like he’s checking Dan over. “Your itch to go fuck a fan scratched?”

Jon laughs, easy and delighted. “What itch?” He presses a kiss to Dan’s forehead and adds, more seriously, “That was much better. With the added bonus that no one’s going to have to explain it to Twitter in the morning.”

 

***

 

Dan’s pulling his jeans off, about to climb into bed, when his phone rings. “Fuck,” he mutters, tripping over the dangling pant leg as he reaches for the phone on his nightstand. It’s late enough that the call is likely important- and it’s Tommy. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“Daaannnnn,” Tommy slurs through the phone. Oh good, he’s drunk dialing.

“Tommy,” Dan says patiently. “It’s late, what do you need?”

“I’m like. It’s spinning- I justtt…” There’s noise in the background like a door slamming and Tommy trails off. Someone’s yelling something unintelligible over a heavy bass beat.

“Tommy,” Dan repeats. “Where are you? What are you on?” Tommy doesn’t get incoherent like this when he’s drunk. High though…

“Dunno. I, after, I went…” His voice shifts abruptly. “What are you doing?” Someone else is mumbling something in the background. “No, I don’t want that.”

Dan sighs and yanks his pants back on, looking around for his shoes. “Tommy, dude, where are you? Where did you go after the show?” he asks sharply into the phone.

“I’m, the club on the street… with Lovett?” Tommy says slowly.

“Okay. Stay there, I’m coming to get you,” Dan tells him firmly. Lovett had come back like two hours ago and had a beer with them in Jon’s room, but he should still be awake to tell Dan where he’d left Tommy.  

When Dan gets to the club, he hands the taxi driver a twenty and asks him to wait five minutes before pushing his way inside. He finds Tommy pretty quickly, sitting on some guy’s lap at the bar. He’s drinking a glass of water at least.

“Hey buddy,” Dan says easily, reaching for Tommy’s shoulders.

“Dan!” Tommy says, delighted. “This is Brad!” he says, gesturing wildly at the guy he’s sitting on, who looks even more stoned than Tommy does. “He hooked up! Hooked me up? But also…”

“Okay Tommy, time to go home now,” Dan interrupts. Tommy comes willingly when Dan gets an arm around him, leaning into Dan’s side and letting Dan steer him through the crowd to the door. When they get outside, he gets distracted, looking at the string lights on the building. “Come on, I’ve got a cab waiting.”

“Oh-kayy,” Tommy drawls, letting Dan push him inside the car. Dan slides in behind him and Tommy immediately wraps his arms around Dan’s neck, clingy.

“He alright?” the cab driver asks, with a nervous look in the mirror.

“Yeah, yeah, just a bit, y’know,” Dan says, hoping it sounds confident. He can’t be sure the cab driver hasn’t recognized them and even if Tommy were just drunk, he’s still underage, so it’s better to admit to nothing. Tommy nestles closer into his neck and then- “Hey, Tommy, no, c’mon,” Dan says softly, tipping Tommy’s face away with gentle hands.

“Dan,” Tommy whines, leaning back in to try and kiss him again. Dan holds his face gently, glancing forward at the driver.

“Not now,” he says gently. Tommy pouts for a second, but then relaxes in his grip again. Just when Dan thinks that’s settled, Tommy reaches out with clumsy fingers for his fly instead. “Tommy. Tommy, stop.”

Tommy pitches forward into his lap, but is too uncoordinated to do much more than mouth ineffectively at Dan’s thigh, so Dan leaves him there. Better than continuing to fight him in the back of the cab, the hotel isn’t far.

After giving a hefty tip, Dan pulls Tommy out of the back of the car and into the hotel. He’s still swaying on his feet across the lobby, flailing a little bit until he gets a hand into the back of Dan’s jeans. “Tommy,” Dan grits out. “Seriously?”

Tommy a little tipsy is great in bed; Tommy actually drunk just passes out wherever you put him; Tommy high on pot gets philosophical; Tommy high on whatever he’s on now is apparently very very horny.

In the elevator, he leans all of his weight onto Dan, one arm still around his back. Dan’s so preoccupied with keeping them both upright and pleasantly smiling at the other three people in the elevator that he doesn’t notice what Tommy’s doing until his shirt is halfway unbuttoned. “Oh my god,” he mutters into Tommy’s ear, “You can’t stand up under your own power but my shirt buttons, those are no challenge?” Tommy tilts his head up to smile beatifically while his hand keeps moving.

Dan grabs for his wrist as Tommy finishes with his shirt and goes for the button on his pants. Two more floors. Tommy squirms in his grasp, but Dan holds him tightly, one hand holding Tommy’s wrist to his chest, the other gripping his hip to keep him standing. The bell dings for their floor and Dan nods apologetically at the lone woman remaining in the car as he drags Tommy out.

“Three words, Tommy: public. indecency. charges.” Dan says sharply once they’re in the hall. Tommy just sags farther against him.

“You’re prettyyy,” he singsongs and Dan rolls his eyes. He has to half carry Tommy down the hall, thanking every deity imaginable that his room isn’t too far away from the elevators. Tommy goes back for his jeans while Dan’s trying to open his door. “Fucking hell Tommy."

When he gets them into his room, Dan immediately falls back against the wall, losing his grip on Tommy. Tommy slides clumsily to the floor in front of him, reaching out  in an attempt to tug Dan’s pants down. Dan slams the door shut before bending to pull him back up. “God you’re an exhibitionist,” Dan mutters, pulling at his waistband to resettle it, while Tommy leans against his chest.

“You don’t want me?” Tommy asks, sounding small and sad and Dan can’t help but laugh. That provokes a wounded noise, so he wraps both arms around Tommy and hugs him tight, bending to kiss his forehead gently.

“You know I do,” Dan says gently, starting to move them slowly across the room to his bed. Tommy whines, a desperate sound that goes straight to his dick. “You’re so fucking high Tommy. We’re not doing this now.” Based on the wounded noise Tommy makes, you’d think it had been years since Dan fucked him and not like, a week. Tommy definitely picked up last night, too. “Ask me tomorrow baby.”

When he gets him onto the bed, Dan carefully tugs Tommy’s shoes and pants off. Tommy is finally pliant, just watching with hazy eyes. There’s a water bottle on top of the minibar. “Here, drink this.” Dan has to hold it to his lips and remind him to swallow, but together they get most of the water into Tommy’s mouth.

Tommy’s shirt is covered with dripped water and god knows what else from the club, so Dan grabs one of his own sleep tees from his suitcase and helps Tommy exchange them. He carefully maneuvers Tommy’s legs around until he can get him under the covers and presses a kiss to his forehead before turning away to get his own pants off. “C’mere,” Tommy whines.

“Gimme a second.” Dan pulls on a t-shirt and sets another water bottle on Tommy’s nightstand before flipping the lights off and climbing into bed on the other side. Tommy rolls towards him immediately, resting his head on Dan’s chest and tangling their legs together. “You’re like an octopus,” Dan says nonsensically.

“Hmm?” Tommy mumbles, finally settled.

“Nothing. Go to sleep.” Dan strokes his hair gently until Tommy’s breathing slows.

In the morning, Dan gets up early and goes down to the buffet. He brings back a cup of coffee and sausage and scrambled eggs on an english muffin and makes Tommy eat it all before gently shoving him into the shower. Tommy’s reluctant and hungover and slow moving, but they have to get on a plane, so he has to get up. Dan sits him on the bed while he quickly packs his own stuff, then walks Tommy to his own room and packs Tommy’s stuff up for him. Tommy leans against him again in the elevator downstairs, thankfully without any clothing removal this time.

The others are already standing on the curb by the van to the airport when they get there. Dan hands off their suitcase and then turns to see Tommy squinting at him. “Sunglasses,” Dan reminds him, taking Tommy’s messenger bag from him and pulling them out before steering him into the van.

Tommy drops his head onto Dan’s shoulder immediately once they’re seated. It seems like he’s asleep when Jon hisses, "What the hell happened last night?”

Dan’s opening his mouth to answer, but before he can figure out what to say, Tommy mumbles, “Don't take the drugs random fans offer you in bars while you're hooking up."

Lovett laughs so hard he falls off the bench seat.  Dan just strokes a hand down Tommy’s side and Tommy turns his head to kiss Dan’s collarbone. This time, Dan lets him.


	5. It took me some time but I figured out, how to fix up a heart that I let down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It happens completely by accident.

It happens completely by accident. Tommy is performing a set in a bar in New York City,  which has become his favorite way to perform. He still gets the joy of sharing his music with people but it’s more personal, less intense to sing to a small crowd, to do it without the constraints of a tour.

He’s walking across the room five minutes before he’s meant to be onstage when a full drink suddenly flies at him. 

“Hey!” he shouts in surprise. Then he looks down.

"Fuck. Tommy."

"Lovett?" Tommy can’t breathe. It’s Lovett. Standing in front of him, staring at his now soaked t-shirt. Tommy knows Lovett’s living in New York now, doing some kind of mystery writing project that he won’t tell Emily and Hanna about. They’d seen him like two months ago, but Hanna had just shrugged unhelpfully when Tommy asked how he was.

"Sorry, sorry," Lovett says, and tries to duck away but Tommy grabs his sleeve. Tommy’s brain is running a million miles a minute, but it’s been six and a half years since he’s exchanged so much as a text with Lovett, he’s not letting this float away. He looks around and clocks all the people looking at them interestedly. It’s not like it used to be but he still doesn’t want this to end up on a gossip blog, so he tows Lovett through the crowd by an arm to the little room next to the stage set aside for performers.

Pushing Lovett ahead of him into the room, Tommy remembers that he has to go onstage in a few minutes and he’s covered in beer. He eyes Lovett, who looks flushed and nervous and is thankfully wearing a henley over a t-shirt. "Can you give me your undershirt?" Tommy asks without preamble.

Lovett gapes at him. "Look I know I've gained weight but it still isn't going to fit you."

"I have a sweatshirt. I just need something to put under it. Come on Lovett, it's the least you could do,” Tommy says, pulling his soaked shirt over his head to press the issue. Lovett is staring at him, unmoving, so he puts a hand out expectantly. "Lovett?"

Lovett awkwardly twists himself around to pull off his shirt without losing the shirt on top. Tommy pulls it on. It’s definitely too small and he knows a sliver of his stomach is showing above his jeans because Lovett is staring at it. Tommy turns to reach in his bag and pull out a zip up sweatshirt, pulling it on and then checking his watch. Two minutes.   
  
He turns back to make eye contact with Lovett. “Hi.”

Lovett rolls his eyes at him. "Hello," he drawls, giving it like four extra syllables. "Long time no see."

"No fucking shit." Tommy says, stepping closer to him. Lovett presses back against the table he’s leaning against. There's too much to say so it feels like there's nothing to say at all as they stare at each other. Finally, Tommy slowly, hesistantly brings a hand up to Lovett's shoulder and squeezes it gently. "Missed you." he says, husky and soft.

Lovett visibly swallows and nods. "Yeah."

There’s a knock on the door. “I have to go do my set,” Tommy says. He takes a deep breath. “Will you, will you stay?" Lovett nods again and Tommy grabs his guitar, squeezes his shoulder again and heads for the stage.  

It’s always weird to perform knowing one of the guys is in the room. Jon has seen him perform once since the split, Dan twice. It makes the hole in his heart where the three of them should be ache in a sharper form. It makes the words that are about them, after all this time, resonate in his chest until he feels like he can’t contain it.

Knowing Lovett is watching is worse. Tommy feels pressure like he hasn’t felt since the first time he stepped onto a stage alone. Every note has to be perfect. Every lyric has to be crisp and clear. He almost stumbles once because you’re not meant to perform songs that you wrote about how much you miss someone when he is so close and yet so far away. 

When it’s over, Tommy walks back towards the little greenroom. He half expects Lovett to have disappeared, but he’s standing to the side of the stage, eyes looking a little red. Lovett follows him into the room and watches him pack up soundlessly. It feels like you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. 

When Tommy straightens up, guitar and messenger bag in hand, Lovett says lightly, "so there's a place around the corner with the best milkshakes in the city." Tommy’s heart leaps into his throat.

"As long as they have fries too." Tommy says with a grin that’s only slightly forced.

They sit in a corner booth for hours. Their conversation flows easily, more than surface level personal, wandering all over the place, weirdly philosophical at points. There are topics they avoid by unspoken agreement: the band, the fights, why Lovett’s not doing music anymore, Jon. But Tommy can feel Lovett opening towards him, jokes getting less rehearsed, body language more relaxed. He hopes Lovett can tell he’s relaxing too. 

“Okay,” Lovett says finally, looking a little hesitant. “I’m really not blowing you off, but my dog will actually destroy my apartment if I don’t get back to take her out soon.” 

Tommy smiles. “Oh no, you have to get back to her.” Lovett smiles back at him and his heart jumps. “I’m thinking about getting a dog, but I’m worried about that same issue, living alone.” Tommy adds. 

“You absolutely should!” Lovett’s eyes light up and he flips through his phone eagerly before holding the screen to Tommy’s face. “This is Pundit and she basically saved my life. Get a dog. It’s a good call.” 

“Maybe I will,” Tommy agrees, standing up from the booth. They hover awkwardly for a minute before Tommy swallows and reaches out for an awkward hug. Lovett’s arms are stiff when they encircle him, but his head presses into Tommy’s chest comfortably. “It was good to see you.” Tommy murmurs. “Don’t… be a stranger?”

“Yeah,” Lovett says quietly. He pulls away and walks out into the night, with a last little wave over his shoulder at Tommy as he walks out the door. 

Tommy half expects that to be it. But the next morning he picks up his phone at the airport to see a notification _Snapchat from Jon Lovett_. “How did you…?” Tommy mutters to himself before opening it. Lovett’s forehead peeks out from behind the curly mass of Pundit’s head. Tommy grins to himself and takes a photo of his Starbucks cup, swiping to add the JFK filter.

By a month later, he opens his actual text message app to send the picture. _The new love of my life. You were so right._ Lovett’s response is instantaneous. _Of course I was. She’s adorable._

They have the hard conversation two years later. They’ve seen each other a handful of times, mostly at Emily and Hanna’s, which no longer feels off limits during weeks when Lovett’s in town. They play in the yard with the kids and the dogs, drink with the girls, and slowly but easily drift back towards each other.

Tommy hesitantly texts Lovett a week before his trip to New York. _hey, I’m going to be in town thurs-tues, any chance you have a couch? No pressure, I can get a hotel_. Lovett responds with gratifying speed. _You better not! I have a great couch and it has your name and Pundit’s hair all over it_.

It’s a little awkward to be sharing space again, but they settle in quickly. By Sunday night they’re stretched out on the couch, legs brushing, watching an indie movie Tommy has only caught pieces of.  They’ve split a bottle of wine and he doesn’t know whether it’s the alcohol or the false sense of intimacy or just that he’s tired of avoiding it that makes Tommy say softly, "it sucked when you left, you know."

Lovett twitches nervously so he follows up. “I’m not, like, gonna yell at you, chill. But don’t you think we should talk about it sometime?"

Lovett stubbornly says “no.” He tucks his legs to his chest and stares at his hands for a long time before he relents. “I never meant to hurt you."

“I didn’t think you did,” Tommy says honestly. Even when he was angriest, he never thought Lovett left out of malice. “What did you mean to do?”

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?” Lovett’s still staring at his hands, twisting his fingers together.

“No.”  Twenty-one year old Lovett maybe didn’t know all the reasons, but Tommy is not about to let twenty-nine year old Lovett get away with that non-answer. He overthinks things more than anyone Tommy knows, except maybe himself. 

“I was tired. We all were tired. We’d been going for so long,” Lovett says carefully. “But I think… fuck Tommy.”

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Tommy says, sincere. He sits up on the couch, reaches out so that his hand is resting on the couch, not quite touching Lovett’s thigh, but close. “I promise, I can’t get more angry than I’ve already been.”

That makes Lovett huff a laugh before he takes a deep breath. “I needed to know if I could make it on my own. Because otherwise I didn’t know what I was going to do when you guys left me.” He finally turns to look at Tommy, fear in his eyes. “And what a great plan it was, cause I fucked everything up and also failed. I wasn’t good enough and also I _hated_ it. I hated singing without you.”

“We weren’t gonna leave you," Tommy says, automatic. Lovett gives him a look and he sighs. He thinks about it for a second and tries again, more honest.  "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't left, Jon. But I hate that you think so fucking little of yourself. We weren't waiting until we could get rid of you. I never wanted... god, I never wanted to leave you." He looks at Lovett intently for a minute before adding hesitantly, "...still don't."

Lovett looks stricken. The only sound in the room is their unified harsh breathing for what seems like an eternity. Finally Lovett says,  "I didn't- I didn't know that," so quiet Tommy can barely hear him.

Tommy breathes slowly, forces himself to lighten the mood a little, for Lovett’s sake. “You’ve always been a little slow on the uptake,” he quips, and the corners of Lovett’s mouth turn up reluctantly. He can’t not be touching Lovett anymore, watching him hunched in on himself, so he reaches out to draw him in for a careful hug.

They return to the movie and their second bottle of wine, tangled together on the couch. Tommy wonders if Lovett is thinking, like he is, about where this fits in their history together. If this honest conversation gets filed in between _first time we made out on the couch_ and _first time I rented a car_ and _first time I got fucked in the shower_ in his mind like it does in Tommy’s. _First time I fixed a hole in my heart_.  

Lovett wanders sleepily towards the bedroom when the movie ends. He turns to look back at Tommy before he flips the light switch and the cautious look in his eyes, like he’s not sure Tommy will be there in the morning, makes Tommy’s heart clench. 

“Hey Lovett,” Tommy says softly. “I’m sorry you didn’t know. I should have told you, all the time. I should have told all of you… Lovett, I never want to lose you again.” 

Lovett doesn’t say anything, Tommy doesn’t need him to. The emotion hangs there, delicate in the air between them, until Lovett turns the light out and leaves the room, with a soft but brilliant smile on his face.

 

***

 

“Hey Dan, what’s up?”

“Tommy.” Dan’s voice sounds rough over the phone line. Oh shit. “We called it. I’m moving out. We’re getting the divorce.” 

“Shit man, I’m sorry.” It’s been coming, Tommy’s not surprised by this call, but still. He presses the speakerphone button and thumbs open the Kayak app. “How are you holding up?” 

“I’ve been better,” Dan says simply. He pauses for a minute before saying tentatively, too tentatively, “are you around this week?” 

Tommy restrains his desire to chastise him for asking like Tommy isn’t a sure thing. “Yeah, I can fly out tomorrow,” he says instead. There’s a flight that will get him to Dan by noon.

“Actually, can I come there?” Dan asks, still sounding so unsure. Tommy is going to give him the biggest hug when he sees him. “I need to… Can I come crash on your couch for a couple days?” 

“Of course. Long as you want.” 

It’s almost noon on the third day Dan’s at his house when the doorbell rings. They’re lazily curled on Tommy’s bed, Dan’s head on his chest, watching some cooking show that does almost as much as the casual contact to relax the tightness of Dan’s spine. Tommy shifts carefully to answer the door, Lucca jumping off the bed eagerly to run ahead of him downstairs. 

Jon’s standing on his doorstep, overnight bag thrown over his shoulder. Tommy grins at him despite the bleak reason for his appearance. He knew, of course, that Jon had a four day gap in his filming schedule when he called him to give him a heads up. But he hadn’t dared to voice the hope that Jon would show up.

“Jon?” Dan says behind him, sounding like he can’t believe his eyes. Jon straightens up from petting the dog and steps past Tommy into the house.

“Hey,” Jon says with forced casualness. “I’ve got a couple days off, thought I’d come hang with you guys.” He opens his arms, just a bit, waiting for Dan to close the distance between them. Tommy watches carefully as Dan’s face shifts from disbelieving to wondering and he moves forward to press his face into Jon’s shoulder. Tommy can’t see Jon’s face, but the set of his shoulders tells him all he needs to know as his arms come up to wrap Dan in a careful but tight hug.

When Jon leaves three days later,  Dan's demeanor is noticeably lighter. Jon and Dan have fallen back into easy companionship, the years of distance melting away on Tommy's couch over pizza and poker and laughter. There's still a long legal process to go through and Tommy expects that there's going to be a lot of late night phone calls yet to come, but having this bridge mended is good for all three of them.

 

***

 

“You are responsible for her. You cannot pawn her off on Tanya, she has enough shit to deal with,” Hanna says threateningly as Jon grabs Kenzie’s suitcase in their front hallway. “Make sure you text us like hourly and call every day. At least like three vegetables a week, please?”

“I’m not a child with a pet. I can be responsible!” Jon retorts. Hanna stares him down even as Emily giggles behind her where she’s giving Kenz a hug. He knows it’s a lot for them, to send her halfway around the world to tour with him for a month. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.” 

He knows they trust him, but it’s still a weighty responsibility. Jon wasn’t all that sure Kenz would even enjoy touring with him when she first started begging to do it two years ago. Sure all of her childhood memories are of life on tour, but he thinks it’s probably going to be a little different as a preteen than as a toddler. Touring wears on him and he’s used to it, so he half expects to be sending an exhausted, grumpy Kenz back home at the end of the month. 

Jon’s the most surprised of all when it goes really fucking well. She sits in his dressing room before shows, perched on the counter, critiquing his clothing. They hang out after the show every night, trying local takeout and watching movies or playing games until she falls asleep tucked against his side. He does send Emily and Hanna frequent pictures of her eating vegetables, just to be a dick.

It’s good for him too. Kenz is excited to be seeing the world. Jon’s never loved international touring, he gets so fucked up by timezones and language shifts. Kenzie is so purely overjoyed by the prospect of going to see churches and art museums and monuments, eating unfamiliar food, trying the tiny bit of French and Spanish she learned in school last year that Jon finds himself absorbing her delight. 

She makes him take terrible awful tourist photos to send her moms and Tommy and Dan. Holding the Eiffel Tower in his hand; both of them propping up the Tower of Pisa; posing to imitate statues. They go to fancy department stores and try on ridiculous hats. He buys one that she loves and wears it onstage that night. His whole production team looks skeptical and the crowd laughs  at him confusedly, but he can see Kenzie giggling hysterically in the wings the whole time.

Tanya snaps a joke picture of the two of them with a pint in Munich. Jon texts it to the group text without thinking about it and immediately regrets that choice when Hanna’s caller ID pops up on his phone approximately fifteen seconds later. “It’s mine! It was a joke!” he yells as soon as the line connects. He can hear helpless giggling in the background and rolls his eyes to the sky.

The last week on tour Kenz turns to him in the hotel room late at night. “Do you ever miss getting to do normal stuff?” 

It takes Jon a second to figure out what she’s talking about. Then he thinks back to that morning when they’d been approached by three fans, one of whom had a tattoo of some of his lyrics, while they were waiting for coffee at the hotel Starbucks. There’d been nothing out of the ordinary in the interaction, but Kenz’s eyes _had_ gone wide when the girl showed him her tattoo.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he tells her honestly.

“Like Uncle Tommy and Uncle Dan and…” she cuts herself off and he bites his lip uncomfortably. “They get recognized sometimes but mostly like, Uncle Tommy wears a baseball hat and sunglasses. It’s not like _this_.”

Jon hums consideringly. The security guards and SUVs and careful scheduling of their tourism are definitely things that the others don’t have to deal with anymore. Tommy does really well blending in as a songwriter in LA, but Jon also knows that he still makes a lot of choices to minimize recognition.

“Yeah, it’s- it’s a lot sometimes Kenz,” he says after a minute. “You gotta remember though, I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen. It’s just how life is at this point.” What he doesn’t say is that it was so much easier to handle the crowds and the phones and the autographs when it wasn’t just him.

Kenz might get it anyway, he considers, as she kisses his cheek and cuddles into his neck. She’s only twelve but she’s so damn perceptive.

Kenz flies at Tommy joyfully when he appears backstage in Amsterdam a week later to take her home. He catches her easily in his arms and spins her around. Jon feels a familiar pang of jealousy, looking at them. He wants this so bad sometimes, to live on their block and see them everyday and have this easy companionable love all the time. He loves the music, he loves the performing, but…

Tommy sets Kenz down and crosses the stage to give Jon an easy comfortable hug and Jon pushes the longing out of his head. After the show, they take her out for a late dinner before going back to the hotel where she promptly passes out.

Jon tugs a wrapped package out of his bag and chucks it at Tommy across the room. “A brownie?” Tommy says confusedly. Jon can see the moment when it clicks and Tommy laughs low and easy. “Kenz is literally asleep right there. 

“Herd of elephants wouldn’t wake that girl up,” Jon says confidently, climbing casually onto Tommy’s lap. “We trained her young.” Tommy grins and pulls him down for a kiss instead of answering.

 

***

 

“Just once more Uncle Tommy, please,” Kenz pleads. Tommy sighs and lifts her phone to the proscribed angle, ignoring Jon’s laughter where he’s on muted FaceTime on Tommy’s own phone. 

“Kenz, we’re going to miss all the hot dogs.”

“Like a single hotdog will actually get cooked on that fire,” she laughs at him. She’s not wrong. Riley’s greatest wish had been to go camping for his sixth birthday and despite having about two nature skills between the lot of them, here they are. Tommy and Emily had coaxed a small fire into existence with the help of Youtube before Kenzie dragged him into the woods to film her with her guitar, but he doesn’t have high hopes for its staying power. 

“Dan brought a grill,” he tells her with a shrug. “O ye of little faith.” Kenzie giggles but gestures insistently at the phone in his hand. When she’s satisfied, she grabs her phone from him and makes a quick face at Jon before opening up her text messages. 

“That’s my five-minute call,” Jon says when Tommy turns the sound back on as they walk back towards the campsie. “Eat a piece of cake for me, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Will do. Break a leg,” Tommy says, hanging up. Almost simultaneously, Kenzie’s phone starts to ring and Lovett’s face fills her screen. 

“The one on the log,” he says immediately.

“Not the one by the creek?”

“No, you fucked up a chord. Also the log gave you better balance, you look more confident.” Tommy’s always a little surprised at how critical Lovett’s feedback to Kenzie is. It’s why she goes to him, he knows. Tommy’s the more patient teacher, but Lovett’s unflinching honesty helps make her better and he’s still kinder to her than anyone else. When she wants unconditional praise, she goes to Jon. They still balance each other out. 

“What about the whole sunset nonsense we just spent twenty minutes on?” Tommy asks lightly, leaning over Kenz’s shoulder to frown at Lovett. 

“It’s too pretty. Drowns her out.” Lovett says immediately. “Leave the aesthetics to me okay?”

“I will once you have an aesthetic beyond ‘so many blankets on the couch my dog falls off it’” Tommy retorts, filled with a familiar swell of joy when Lovett laughs.

“I did not send you that snapchat this morning so that you could mock my home decor.”

“But can I like, pick out new pillows for your couch?” Kenz chimes in. “None of it matches.” The three of them bicker companionably until they get back to the fire where all hell appears to have broken loose. 

“What is _happening_?” Tommy asks, looking at the toppled over camp chairs and puddles of water around the now extinguished fire.

“It turns out,” Hanna says slightly breathlessly, “that when you spray bug spray into the fire to ‘see what happens’ and then drop the aerosol can, _Wallace_ , it explodes.”

“Whoosh,” Wally says happily from where he’s held tightly against Dan’s chest. Dan sighs, exasperated but resigned. 

Emily looks at Tommy pleadingly from across the fire and he stops laughing to help her right the chairs. Her face and arms are dotted with dried calamine lotion from her poison ivy adventure earlier in the afternoon and her hair has all but abandoned the ponytail. “We are not outdoor people,” she says ruefully.

“Lucky for you, I bet you’ll get to practice loads,” Tommy tells her cheerfully, digging in his backpack for more lotion. They both look across the remains of the fire at the birthday boy who is cheerfully leaning forward in his chair talking to Lovett on Kenzie’s phone, which she’s carefully holding away from his marshmallow covered person. “Hey, Riley is having fun and no one’s hurt. Maybe we just skip the fire next time. Or skip the flammable substances.” 

“They’ll find some other disaster,” Hanna says wearily as she leans against the picnic table next to them. “What do you think Em, any chance we don’t end up with marshmallow goo in our hair for the next three weeks?” 

“Not at all. What do we have with us? Wet wipes?”

Tommy reaches back into his backpack and finds the package in question. Dan holds out a hand and Tommy tosses it for him to catch neatly. After doing his best on Wally’s sticky face and hands, he sets him down and he runs to Tommy, who scoops him up easily and flips him upside down in the air. Dan chuckles and then rounds the circle, brandishing a wipe at Riley. Tommy can see the exact moment that Dan clocks Lovett on Kenzie’s phone screen because he freezes with the wet wipe held four inches from Riley’s face. 

Kenz is still chattering easily, so it must not be _too_ noticeable, but Tommy really wishes he could see Lovett’s face right now, as Dan recovers himself and gives Riley’s face a cursory scrub. Tommy reaches out to squeeze his shoulder when Dan walks past him a few seconds later, muttering “bathroom” and disappearing from view.

Emily and Hanna exchange a look Tommy can’t decipher before Emily moves to put a hand on Kenz’s shoulder and lean into the call. “Okay, time for dinner.” Kenz and Riley whine perfunctorily as they say goodbye to Lovett and put the phone away. 

Tommy pulls his own phone out of his pocket when Hanna grabs Wally from him to make a plate. _You okay?_ he types, hesitating for a long moment before pressing send. He’s tucked into his sleeping bag, listening to Dan toss and turn on the other side of the tent before the response buzzes in. _yeah, why wouldn’t I be. Don’t let Kenz put the video with the flowers on instagram, her fingering is all off_.

 

***

 

They’re in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner when Tommy lets himself into the house. “Honeys I’m home!” he calls, laughing. It seems like the whole house echoes with pounding feet as dogs and kids rush him at the door. Emily sets down the spoon in her hand as she turns to give Hanna a fond look.

“Uncle Tommy, you wanna see the caterpillar I found in the garden?” Riley yells as the cacophony moves towards the kitchen.

“After dinner?” Tommy says amiably. Riley’s apparently satisfied with that answer and he thuds through the house to the back door. “Lucca! Lucca! Down!” Tommy yelps, as he appears in the kitchen doorway. Lucca is jumping at him excitedly as Leo winds around his feet sedately. Kenz follows them in, face lit up. 

“Hey Tommy?” Hanna says in greeting. “Your dog is a wild thing.” 

“Leave her alone,” Tommy mutters grumpily, bending to kiss her head and let her lick his face. Lucca’s two, but she’s still full of puppy like energy. And her dad spoils her rotten.

“Uncle Tommy,” Kenzie says with the air of someone who’s been waiting a great deal longer than two minutes for attention. 

“Yeah sweetie?” Tommy tilts his face up to her even as he drops to his knees on the floor. “Yeah, did you miss me? I missed you so much,” he murmurs to Lucca. 

“How was it?” Kenz asks. It being Oklahoma, where Tommy had a meeting with an artist he’s writing a song for that totally wasn’t set up specifically to coincide with Jon’s show. 

“Good, good,” Tommy says distractedly. “Jon’s show sold out, as per. We found a really good BBQ place beforehand and he tried a hot wing and swore his mouth hurt too bad to sing so it was nearly a disaster… Jon and Tanya say hi, by the way.” 

“Richards was a dud then?” Emily asks pointedly, ignoring the look from Hanna. _Don’t interfere_.  

“Richards?” Tommy says. He pauses in a way that would be revealing if there was anything left to reveal. Fuck, he’s disgustingly in love. “Yeah, no the meeting went well. I think there’s something good to write there.” 

“That’s good,” Hanna says firmly, with another sidelong glance at Emily. 

“Okay, but did anything interesting happen?” Kenz says eagerly, undeterred by Emily proving a point. “Did anyone crazy sneak backstage?” At some point Jon or Tommy told her about the time that happened, on the boys’ first tour, and she’s been obsessed with the concept ever since. 

“Nah,” Tommy says easily, still mostly focused on the dogs. Leo’s now curled up in his lap while Lucca pushes her head into his chest. “We did have to move hotel rooms though because some fans found our room number and they kept calling the phone.” 

“How’d they find out?” Kenzie asks, fascinated. 

“Fucking concierges.” They don’t say it in unison, but it’s a close thing. Tommy and Emily and Hanna are far too familiar with hotel staff that don’t understand discretion. And hotel staff that give out the _wrong room number_ and then the fans call and wake up your sleeping toddler.

Wait. “Our room?” Tommy goes bright red. “Kenzie weren’t you going to set the table?” Emily says firmly. Kenz gives her a put-upon look, but the mom voice is well-honed. When she’s reluctantly disappeared, Emily rounds on Tommy, leaning into his space. “Tommy. Our room?” 

“Jon’s and mine,” he says, stumbling a little. Hanna lightly hip checks Emily before dropping to sit on the floor in front of Tommy. 

“Are you two…?” Hanna asks, looking at him intently. There are so many innocent reasons Jon and Tommy would be sharing a hotel room. The boys were always cuddlers; they only see each other rarely now, they want to squeeze every minute out of it; Tommy somehow failed to plan ahead far enough to book his own room or the whole hotel was booked, which happens sometimes in smaller areas if other stuff is going on. None of those innocent reasons would have Tommy bright red and staring at Leo’s curls like they hold the key to life itself. 

“Yeah,” Tommy says softly after a long moment. Emily plops down on the floor with them and sets a hand on Tommy’s knee 

“How long?” she asks. There’s nothing _wrong_ with Tommy sleeping with Jon again. Everything old is new again and all that jazz. But they’re fragile now, in a way they weren’t before. And they’re no better at communicating about their feelings, even if they seem to be more in touch with them.  

Tommy’s spine stiffens as he breathes. His chin finally comes up as he says, “Five years?”

“Five… Five years?” Hanna says dumbly. “You’ve been fucking Jon for five years and we’re just now hearing about it?” 

“Hey maybe Jon’s been fucking me for five years, you don’t know,” Tommy says contrarily. 

“Mhmm.” Emily squeezes his knee. “Why?” 

“Well Emily. Sometimes, when two people get to feeling a certain way-” She squeezes his knee again, harder this time. “I wasn’t hiding. It wasn’t a secret. I just…” Tommy sighs, heavy. “You know how sometimes it feels like if you talk about something you’ll break it?” 

“Oh Tommy,” Hanna says softly. 

“It started. We never talked about it and then I didn’t know if it would last… And then it had been a year and then two and it was more frequent and I didn’t know how to say,” Tommy is stumbling over his words looking, not scared, but unsure. Uncertain of them, maybe. Uncertain of Jon, definitely. He shakes his head and says more firmly, “It’s not a big deal. We just hook up when we’re in the same place. It’s easy. Just like always.” 

The oven timer goes off and Hanna stands up, brushing her hand against Tommy’s shoulder as she goes. Emily leans closer, searching his face. He won’t make eye contact. 

“It’s really not a thing Em.” 

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” she asks quietly. Tommy smiles at her wryly before gently pushing the dogs aside and clambering to his feet. He reaches down to offer her a hand as Kenz flies back into the kitchen and the chaos begins anew.

When Emily walks into their bedroom after brushing her teeth that night, Hanna is sitting against the headboard, knees drawn up to her chest, looking deep in thought. Emily sits down next to her and bites her lip. She knows how this conversation is going to go, they’ve had it dozens of times. She still can’t stop her mouth from opening.

“Look I know you think it’s a terrible idea and I know Tommy and Lovett ‘reconciled on their own’ and ‘meddling would have stopped fate’ and whatever…” she says, making quote fingers as she paraphrases earlier versions of this argument. “But I really think Jon and Tommy are never going to _get it_ without help.”  

“Emily,” Hanna says placatingly. 

“So not only, as I have laid out in great detail, are half the songs on Jon’s last couple albums transparently about being in love with Tommy. Not only are half the songs Tommy’s ever written, including some he’s written for other people about being in love with Jon.” Emily is basically yelling in her eagerness to prove her point. “Not only does Tommy make up stupid excuses to fly to see Jon’s shows and Jon send him literal flowers and chocolate for fake special occasions. But, on top of all of that, on top of all the other signs that they’re head over heels for each other and oblivious about it, they’ve been _fucking for five years_.” 

Hanna sets a hand on her arm when she pauses for breath. “Okay,” she says.

“What?”

“Okay babe, you might… you might be right,” Hanna says, sheepish. 

Emily is wound up to go for like five more minutes, easy. “Oh.” It takes her a second to fully process. She’s been making this argument for well, about five years. Hanna has always been resolutely opposed to matchmaking their friends, even as she’ll readily cede that they’re obviously, absurdly, stupidly in love. Emily can feel her face light up. “So we can do something?” 

“Yes, yes, okay,” Hanna sighs grudgingly. “As I do not want to be here for another ten years waiting for them to get their shit together, yes we can do something.”

 

***

 

Jon is fidgeting with his collar while they walk to Emily and Hanna’s door. Tommy reaches out to swat his fingers down and smooth it out without thinking about it. “Why are you so freaked?” Tommy asks quietly. 

“I’m not. It’s just. Suspicious.” Jon’s fingers dart up again and Tommy grabs them this time, squeezes his hand easily and turns to knock on the door. Jon’s not wrong. He’s here for two days between the show last night in LA and tomorrow’s in Las Vegas and Emily and Hanna had been uncharacteristically demanding about tonight’s plans. _Show up at 6:30. Wear shirt and tie. Bring Lucca. Walk don’t drive. Don’t bring anything. No not even wine, Tommy._  

The door swings open and Emily appears, laughing already. “Since when do you knock?” she asks, voice bubbling with barely repressed delight. Tommy really wishes he knew what’s up with her. 

“I don’t know, since your house got a dress code?” He unclips Lucca’s leash and she sprints off to find Leo or the kids. Speaking of the kids, there’s a curious lack of eager smiles. “Where are Kenz and Riley?” 

“Friends’ houses,” Hanna says, appearing out of nowhere with full glasses of wine which she distributes easily before jerking her head towards the living room. Tommy exchanges uneasy glances with Jon before following her deeper into the twilight zone. 

Tommy sits down tentatively on the couch as Hanna drops, regal, into the chair across from him. Jon makes a strangled noise as Emily pushes him towards the couch. He takes the seat next to Tommy, grumbling, “dress nicely so I can spill your wine all over you.”  Emily stays standing, facing them imperiously. 

“This is an intervention,” she intones. Tommy blinks at her, confused. He drops his eyes to give Hanna a questioning look. She just rolls her eyes fondly.

“An intervention for what?” Jon sounds even more lost than Tommy feels. “Look I know I don’t make like, the healthiest choices on the road but I’m not sure what you think I’m addicted-”

“Not that kind of intervention, Emily is being unnecessarily dramatic,” Hanna interrupts. “Listen guys. This is getting ridiculous.”

“What is?” Tommy asks. Hanna gestures between him and Jon and his heart stops. They… He knew they weren’t on board with them hooking up by their reactions last month but he didn’t think they were this opposed. It’s uncharacteristically cruel for either of them to humiliate him like this, why didn’t they just _talk to him_.

“Tommy,” Emily says flatly. He stares at her, probably wild-eyed. _Please please please don’t do this_ , he wills her. _I don’t know how much you know, but, please_. “You’re in love with Jon,” she says in that same even tone.There’s a sharp intake of breath beside him. _Fuck_. He can’t meet her eyes anymore. The coffee table is safer, the basket of magazines isn’t looking right through him. Emily is still talking, “...light up when you see him; Tommy, you claimed you were curious about _re-covered stadium seats_ as an excuse to go to one of his shows.”

Tommy’s known he’s in love with Jon for, a while. He thinks he’s probably been in love with him for a decade, even when he didn’t know it. Jon’s just, a part of him. He’s belonging; he’s a matching puzzle piece; he’s the easiest space Tommy’s ever had to land, with a game on TV and a drink at the ready; he’s his wide trusting eyes saying _I’ve never been with a guy_ ; he’s his angriest words; he’s his broken sobs; he’s his brilliant smile when he manages to surprise Tommy.

Jon’s also not in love with him. Jon’s having a good time with his best bro, letting Tommy fill in for what he’s missing in a way Tommy gave up on resisting years ago. He loves Tommy but he doesn’t know how much Tommy _wants_. Tommy wants it all, but he’s _fine_ with what Jon will give him, damn you Emily. 

Dimly, he recognizes that he’s breathing rapid and harsh, his cheeks are so red he can feel it. Emily is still standing in front of him. She might still be talking, he’s honestly not sure. Jon’s unmoving beside him, Tommy can’t turn his head to see what his face looks like, if he’s looking at him at all. 

It’s Jon’s voice that cuts through in the end. “Tom,” he says roughly. Tommy shakes his head. 

“Jon,” Emily says next. Tommy’s heart is racing out of his chest. “Jon, you’re in love with Tommy.” _What_. The sound that comes out of Jon’s mouth is not a word. But it doesn’t sound angry or disappointed or disgusted. “You call him almost every night before you go on stage; you need his approval more than anything else in the world; you can’t take your eyes off him any time you’re in the same room, even right now.” 

“I…” Jon says. Tommy closes his eyes against the blow. “Yeah. Yeah I am.” 

Tommy’s head jerks up. He turns his face towards Jon wildly. The rest of the room is a blur but there’s Jon, leaning slightly towards him, looking right at him, eyes wide and vulnerable and… loving? “Jon,” he breathes, not capable of more words. 

Jon’s throat moves as he swallows. His face is determined. “All of that and more Tommy.” 

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. It hurts to look at Jon but he can’t look away. His hands come up to clutch his own face without conscious intent; they’re cool and calming. “I… Same,” he finally manages. 

Jon’s hands find his shoulders, impossibly gentle as he pulls Tommy close. Tommy wraps his own arms around Jon, notices dully that his hands are shaking on Jon’s spine. _Jon loves him_. 

“Okay,” Emily’s voice breaks the comfortable quiet an indeterminable amount of time later. “Not that hugging forever isn’t a good option-”

“Em, I’m trying to reshape my whole understanding of the universe here,” Jon says, fake grumpy. 

“My god, you can’t be that surprised,” she snipes back. “You’re dumb but you’re not stupid.” 

“Anyway,” Hanna says loudly. “Because some people like _high drama_ , you guys have dinner reservations like, now.”  

“It’s romantic,” Emily says firmly.

“Not when we get swarmed?” Jon says, but he’s already moving to stand, tugging Tommy with him with a gentle hand on his elbow. 

Hanna’s looking at him frustratedly. “We thought of that, obviously. You’ll have the chef’s table, it’s got like a private entrance.”

“You guys.” Jon sounds almost as overwhelmed as Tommy feels, finally. 

Hanna squeezes Jon’s shoulder and makes a shooing motion towards the door. Emily grabs Tommy by the hand when he goes to follow. He meets her eyes, which look soft and worried. “I just want you to be happy Tommy,” she whispers. Tommy forces his mouth to smile at her. “You deserve this.” He squeezes her hand gently and she leans up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before leading him out front where there’s already a car waiting. 

Tommy turns to look at the two of them, standing on their porch, as the car pulls away. “They’re insane,” he murmurs. 

“They are,” Jon agrees. “But they love us.” He scoots closer to Tommy on the seat and tentatively reaches an arm around him. Tommy leans into the contact. “You okay?” Jon asks. “You’re quiet.” 

“I’m… processing,” Tommy says softly. “This is a lot.” Jon squeezes his shoulder gently. “Good a lot,” he adds quickly. He doesn’t want Jon to be worried. He doesn’t want Jon to think he’s not _so so so happy_.  

“Can you process and kiss me?” Jon asks hopefully and Tommy giggles in spite of himself. 

“I think so.” This part is easy. He’s kissed Jon so many times in so many ways. It’s the easiest thing in the world to turn and cup his cheek, to close the space between them, to open his lips when Jon’s tongue presses against them. It’s easy, but it’s different. It feels intoxicating in a new way. _Jon loves him_.  

Tommy knows he’s not imagining Jon’s reluctance to separate when the car gets to the restaurant. “I love them, but this is so much to handle right now,” he mumbles as he pulls on a precautionary baseball cap and reaches for the door. He looks absurd. Tommy loves him.

They duck into the restaurant quickly and as promised, the room is empty save them and a server. Jon keeps a loose grip on Tommy’s hand across the table as they sit down. Tommy immediately kicks his feet out to twine their ankles together. 

“Hey,” Tommy says, once they’ve got glasses of wine and the server’s made a tactful exit. “I think I’ve processed.” Jon laughs at him fondly. “And I haven’t said it yet. Jon, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. I didn’t always know I wanted…” he gestures to encompass the ties and the wine and the way he’s still breathing a little heavy. “...this. But I’m all in if you are, whatever you want to give me.” 

“What if I want everything?” Jon says, soft. Tommy shakes his head, still a little disbelieving. Apparently he’s not quite done processing yet. “I mean it Tommy. I haven’t. There hasn’t been anyone else for… years.” 

Tommy gapes a little bit. When he’d thought about it, which was as infrequently as he could manage, he’d assumed Jon was still picking up. Taking his pretty model dates home at the end of the night if he didn’t hate them on sight. 

“Me neither,” he says honestly. After Katie he’d fucked around a bit. But then there’d been Jon. And there’d been nights on the couch with Kenz or runs with the dogs. He’d known he wanted something more than meaningless sex. Now Jon’s grinning at him and all he can think is _why didn’t I ask for this sooner._  

“We’re a pair of fools, huh?” Jon shakes his head. He looks like he’s working through something in his head, even as he smiles with his whole being. The server comes back in with bread and an appetizer plate that looks like it might be calamari. Jon snags a piece and twirls it on his fork aimlessly. “Can I be super honest and a little sappy for a second?” 

Tommy smiles at him helplessly. “Always.”

“You know when I realized I’m in love with you? When you sent me that ridiculous picture of you and Kenz with sheet masks on the plane back from Amsterdam. And I’d seen you literally six hours earlier and I just felt you missing from me like a part of my heart was gone.” Jon pauses and sucks in a careful breath. “And it was the first time that I felt like my heart was whole enough that I could feel what was missing since… well.” 

_Since Lovett left_. “Jon.” His name feels pulled from Tommy’s lips.

“No I’m… this is a good story Tommy, don’t look at me like that. That feeling, it just hit me like a ton of bricks how you’ve been here, all along, even when I really didn’t deserve you, ready to help me put myself back together.” Jon squeezes his hand again. “You’re the only reason I didn’t completely shatter when he left. You held me together by sheer force of will. And I was so fucking stubborn, I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tommy interrupts. He’s never wanted Jon to be sorry. “I just wanted you to come back, I didn’t…” 

“I know,” Jon’s still smiling at him. “You were just there, waiting. I ran and tried to fix it on my own and I let you down and hurt you so many times in the process and you might not think you need the apology, but I’m sorry anyway.” Tommy’s throat feels blocked as he nods Jon on. “Everything was just so much better when I let you back in Tommy. I’m sorry I shut you out and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize just how much I want from you.” 

“I love you,” Tommy says slowly. It feels like not enough, but its all he can say and it’s everything he has to give.

“Tommy,” Jon says seriously. “I love you so much. I’m going to love you forever.” Tommy can’t resist leaning across the table to kiss him at that line. 

They’re interrupted by a polite cough from the server. Tommy hasn’t taken a single bite of the appetizer, he realizes with a start. They slide back to less emotional topics by unspoken agreement while they eat. It’s easy as anything to pick up their ongoing argument about baseball lineups, nothing changed but the light in Jon’s eyes, the way Tommy no longer has to stop himself from staring, and their hands, linked on the table even though it’s awkward to eat one handed. 

When they’re heading towards the door and the car at the end of the meal, Jon keeps looking at Tommy nervously. “What’s up?” Tommy asks. 

“So I’m going on to Vegas tomorrow right? But then I’m done in two weeks and I have at least three months off to write and record.” Tommy feels like his body can’t contain his joy, even though Jon hasn’t even gotten to the fucking point yet. “I could come back here and… stay with you?” Jon asks, adorably tentative.

Tommy laughs at him and pulls him close as they step out onto the street. “You can stay with me always,” he says seriously. _Please._

Jon’s face looks like it’s lit by stage lights, even though he’s sliding into a dark car. “Tommy,” he says. “Take me home.”

  



	6. I want you here with me, like how I pictured it, so I don't have to keep imagining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So I got invited to return to my life of international stardom and intrigue for one night and one night only."

“It’s definitely too cold for the balcony,” Tommy says, following Lovett outside nonetheless. 

Lovett ignores him as he kicks the door open and carelessly sets down his armful of takeout boxes on the table in front of the loveseat before flopping down on it. Tommy copies him more carefully with their drinks. “I bought this dumb heater thing, might as well use it,” Lovett says with a shrug as Pundit hops up to settle between them.

They lapse back into the somewhat tense silence that’s plagued them intermittently since Tommy got to NYC yesterday. He’d like it noted for the record that he had this trip planned long before the world got turned upside down. He didn’t _plan_ to invade Lovett’s space and have an awkward standoff three days after Tanya called to see if Lovett would join their, christ, their band reunion at a charity concert for refugees.   

Last weekend, on a group video call, everything had seemed settled. There’s been requests for reunion performances for years of course, but they’ve always conflicted with Jon’s tours or been for the wrong purpose or another transparent excuse to hide the fact that they weren’t willing to do it. This time though, it’s for a great cause and Jon was already going to be in LA, home with Tommy.

Jon had said yes first, actually; had already been on board when he and Tanya called Tommy and Dan from Caracas. Dan had smiled easily and Tommy certainly didn’t need to be asked twice. He’s not sure what’s changed, whether it’s the way Jon’s slowly winding down his career, leaning towards Tommy, whether it’s the the way time is creeping up on them as Dan hits the old age of thirty-five, whether it’s just that it’s been eleven years since their last show and that’s somehow the right amount of time. Maybe Tommy should stop looking a gift horse in the mouth and be happy to have the chance to be onstage with his boys again. 

Or, almost all his boys. That’s where the video call comes in. They’d officially agreed, after days of discussion and Tanya was starting to click through her spreadsheets on her tablet next to Favs in their hotel in Rio. Then Emily, who’d been pretty quiet so far, uncharacteristically so, Tommy realized later, leans forward into the camera and says in a voice dripping with innocence, "So who's asking Lovett?”

A couple things happened at the same time: Dan absently said "what…? Wally put the iPad down if you're going to sprint around the room.” Tommy saw the moment he ran Emily’s sentence by himself again and his eyes widened, “ _What_!?!”  

Tommy choked on the water he'd just taken a sip of, _thanks Emily_ , and swiveled his head to stare at her. She sat back so she was offscreen and shrugged at him and they proceeded to have a detailed conversation in facial expressions and gestures while Jon sputtered incoherently on the other end of the line. 

Emily knew exactly what she was doing. No one would have even mentioned him, they all expected it to be the three of them and yet… As soon as Lovett’s name was mentioned, all Tommy wanted was for him to be there with them; to really have everything, for a night. And damn her, Emily knew he’d try to make it happen.

After the awkwardness died down, they eventually established that Tanya would call him and “just see. Maybe he won’t even want to come.” Now Tommy is sitting next to him on his balcony - which he has to admit is cozy with the space heater and the blanket Lovett’s thrown at him - pretending that the margarita Lovett proudly demonstrated his “skill” at producing doesn’t taste like shit and wondering if they’re ever going to _talk_ about it.

He doesn’t have to wait much longer. When the food is gone and Tommy’s put what he feels is a respectable dent in the drink and set it aside, Lovett gives him a sidelong glance and he knows it’s time. Lovett starts it in a performative, blustery tone, easy like it’s a bit, “So I got invited to return to my life of international stardom and intrigue for one night and one night only.” 

Tommy plays along. “Hmmm, interesting, tell me more” 

“I’m thinking about it,” Lovett says, still doing the bit. His voice wavers just a bit as he adds, “but I think the others might not want me there.” 

Tommy says, “Lovett.” Lovett must actually be thinking about it or he would have stayed silent. Tommy can’t help the way his heart leaps at the thought of Lovett saying yes. 

Lovett bites his lip. He’s completely sincere when he says, quieter “What do you think?” 

“I think, for one night, it might be kind of fun,” Tommy says diplomatically. Lovett needs to ask the question he wants the answer to.

“No, about the others." Lovett’s not looking at him anymore, staring out at the city. “They hate me.”

Tommy sucks in a breath. He’s prepared for this. Jon won’t talk about Lovett, wouldn’t acknowledge this possibility once the video call had ended, even to Tommy. Dan’s been quiet too, except for when he asked Tommy, on a short phone call as Tommy drove to the airport, voice artificially even, “Do you think he might… show up?” He suspects, no he _knows_ , that they don’t hate Lovett at all.

“I don’t think you’re right about that,” Tommy says, slow and careful. “But, don’t you think, maybe, it's time to find out?"

Lovett seems unimpressed with his carefully planned answer. “Tommy I’m not playing, you can just tell me they don’t ever want to see my face again and Tanya only asked me because the label or the venue management asked. I’ll very politely turn it down and be the bad guy and you guys can go on and live your dreams.” His tone is bitter and sharp as he sells them so so short.

Tommy can’t keep from rolling his eyes. “I’m not doing this. I’m not going to pass notes like we're in middle school," he snaps, harsher than he means to. “You’re going to have to talk to them if you want to know where you stand,” he adds, a little softer.

Improbably, Lovett seems to settle at that. He presses further into the corner of the chair and pulls Pundit into his lap, petting her carefully. After a pensive silence, he says, quietly into the night, "I just- I’m not trying to get anything out of you. I just- I don't want to go where I'm not wanted." 

Tommy breathes, looks at the lights in the buildings around them. He can’t promise Lovett what he wants. He can’t promise him Jon. He can’t promise him that it’ll be fun or even that it’ll be okay. There’s only one thing he can say. “Well, _I_ really want you there. It won’t be the same without you,” he says honestly.  “Is that enough?”

He can hear Lovett thinking beside him, can practically see the gears turning as he decides how honest, how vulnerable to be. He must land on pretty open, because he reaches for Tommy’s hand in the space between them as he says quietly, timidly, “Yes.” 

Tommy squeezes his hand and they sit in comfortable silence, both lost in their own heads. 

In the morning, Lovett calls Tanya while Tommy pretends he’s not listening from the kitchen. He doesn’t think he’s particularly effective at the charade. “Yep… Yeah… with bells on,” Lovett says, only a small quaver in his voice betraying his nerves. He smiles weakly at Tommy when he hangs up. “I think I may have made a huge mistake.” 

“Nah,” Tommy says confidently, holding out a second cup of coffee. “I can’t wait.”

 

***

 

It might just be his eagerness to be home, but Jon thinks he can hear the laughter before he even reaches Tommy’s door. He can definitely hear excited barking as he fits his key into the lock, still feeling a little bit like an intruder as he does so, even after two years of spending every possible moment in this house. The door opens and he pushes at Lucca with his knees to move her inside.

Jon drops his bags to pet her and Leo as soon as he closes the door behind him. Tommy’s voice echoes down the hallway. “No that was the door.” 

“It’s definitely a home invasion and not your boyfriend and his key,” Emily says seriously. Jon chuckles quietly, in no real hurry to move further inside. They’re in the kitchen, the clang of pots and pans and the scrape of a stool covering some kind of pop music that he can’t pick out and the murmur of conversation. 

“He’s not here til tomorrow,” Tommy says as Emily appears in the hallway and grins at Jon. 

“Yep Tommy, it’s a burglar, you better come rescue me,” she calls in a not particularly concerned voice as she goes up on tiptoe to hug Jon. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” Jon smiles at her and kicks off his shoes to follow her down the hallway. Jon always feels an unbelievable sense of peace walking into Tommy’s house, even when it’s full of noise and people and dogs. Unlike the professionally decorated, sterile apartments he’d lived in while recording his albums, Tommy’s house is lived in and comfortable; running shoes by the door, Lucca’s toys all over, his office with never ending piles of books and cds and sheet music, his comfy couch and stacks of movies. 

Jon smiles, as always, at the photos on the wall as they approach the kitchen. Tommy has pictures everywhere in the house. When he’d first moved in two years ago, he’d spent a morning when Tommy was at a meeting looking at all of them, studying the captured memories of the kids that he’d missed, staring at the photo on the office wall of Lovett and Kenz with dripping ice cream cones until it faded into a blur that didn’t hurt anymore. Tommy also still has pictures of _them_ as teenagers everywhere, Jon’s looked at those plenty and they still make his chest ache. 

But the pictures in the hallway are less complicated; framed pieces of art by Kenz, Riley, and Wally that had been gifted to Tommy; a sloppily composed photo of Tommy, Hanna, and Emily laughing at Riley when Kenz was trying out her new camera; Tommy and Dan throwing a football while the boys and the dogs ran between them; Tommy and Jon cuddled together on Emily’s couch; Jon, Tommy, and Dan at Wally’s first Little League game last summer. The frames tell a story of the life Tommy’s built for himself, the life that Jon’s still trying to claim his place in. 

"You're home early!" Tommy says delightedly as Jon and Emily enter the kitchen. 

“You’re covered in eggs!” Jon replies in the same tone, delicately stepping around the island and through the mess on the floor to tentatively kiss a relatively clean spot on Tommy’s cheek. Tommy _is_ covered in egg and something that he hopes is tomato sauce and various unidentifiable other food products. Kenzie, next to him at the stove, is not much better off when Jon tugs on her ponytail affectionately. “I got an earlier flight, thought I’d surprise you.” 

“Consider me surprised,” Tommy says with a grin. “I’d give you a better welcome but we’ve got a bit of a disaster on our hands as you can see.”

“It’s not a disaster!” Kenz protests. “We’re making a beautiful paella. It’s going to be perfect.” Emily snorts from her stool at the island and Kenz throws a dirty look over her shoulder. 

Jon takes that as his cue to leave the chefs to their work with a brush of his hand against Tommy’s neck. He stops at the fridge to grab a beer. “Get me one too please?” Dan asks. 

“Me too!” 

“I’m not your servant Emily,” Jon says, laughing. “You could say please.” He grabs three bottles and sits down between them on the third stool. 

“Thank you Jon,” Emily says pointedly and he rolls his eyes at her.

“Thanks dude,” Dan says slightly more sincerely, though he’s looking over into the den where Hanna is stretched out on the floor playing a board game with Wally and Riley.  Jon reaches over to give him a one-armed hug.

“It’s good to see you, how’s things?” he asks. “Hey Hanna, hey guys!” he calls at a louder volume. Hanna waves a hand at him with a smile. The boys mumble unintelligibly, focused on their game. Jon knows that level of focus is rare so he doesn’t interrupt further.

“Things are good.” Dan turns back to give Jon his full attention, evidently satisfied that Hanna has that situation under control. That’s one of the things Jon loves most about Dan, that no matter what else is going on around him, he has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. “Somewhat regretting bringing Wally out with me cause all he’s done the past two days is complain that he has to go back at the end of the week and miss the concert, but other than that.” 

Jon grimaces sympathetically. “The best part is the early rehearsals though huh?” They’ve got almost three weeks to get their feet under them before they have to perform together and he has a sense that they’re all going to need it. Especially whenever Lovett deigns to show up; his arrival still a big and horrifying question mark on Tanya’s spreadsheet. 

“Yeah totally,” Dan smirks. “What’s new with you? Your life is much more exciting than mine.” Jon winces reflexively. He doesn’t think that at all. He’s lucky and he knows it, to have been so successful for so long. But the endless cycle of writing, recording, and touring, punctuated by a few movies with intense filming schedules has worn on him over the years. Most importantly, for the past couple years, the “excitement” has kept him away from where he wants to be, right here, with his family. 

“Actually,” Jon says slowly. Tommy turns from the stove to smile at him encouragingly and Jon smiles back as he continues, “I’ve just officially told the label I’m gonna ‘retire.’ I’ve got one more album contract and I’m going to have to do at least an abbreviated tour for it, but then I’m done.” 

“Jon that’s huge,” Dan says. “Congratulations!” His voice isn’t at all questioning, which Jon appreciates. Dan _would_ get it immediately, just as Tommy had when Jon had first started talking about it a couple months ago.  

“Thanks.” Jon smiles at him. “I’m going to move here full-time, try to figure out how to live like a normal person for a change.” 

“That’ll be tough, seeing as you’re super weird,” Emily teases him, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. 

“Wait you’re totally going to move here right when I leave for college!” Kenz accuses, spinning around to stare at him. Tommy yelps as the spatula in her hand flings sauce at him. 

“I didn’t _plan_ it that way Mackenzie,” Jon says placatingly. He screws up his face, thinking. “It’ll probably be like a year? If everything goes quickly? So I should be here for the summer?”  

She shakes her head disapprovingly. “You make my life very difficult Uncle Jon.” Tommy and Emily both laugh too hard at that. _Traitors_.  

Something in the pan sizzles and Tommy jumps. “Fu-, shoot!” he says sharply. “Kenz, stir that!” 

Jon leans towards Dan. “There’s no way that’s gonna be edible, right?” he whispers. Dan laughs, low and easy, and tilts his phone screen over so Jon can read it. He’s already ordered pizza, arriving in ten minutes. “Perfect.”

 

***

 

“Oh you finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Dan’s voice is sharp when it cuts across the stadium, harsher than Emily’s heard him in years. Kenz, who’d run to give Lovett a hug as soon as she saw him, whips around in a way that would be comical if it wasn’t so fucking sad. She looks confused and scared and suddenly much younger than sixteen. _She’s never heard him raise his voice,_ Emily realizes, and that makes his next words hit even harder. “We’re already really behind, so if you could like, get up here?”  

Lovett winces, visible from where Emily’s sitting ten yards away. Then he leans in to whisper something in Kenzie’s ear and kiss her cheek before jogging towards the steps and onstage. “Great to see you too Dan,” he snaps. 

Emily can _see_ Lovett pulling prickly and standoffish around himself like armor. Jon is determinedly messing with a mic cord, like he hasn’t even noticed Lovett’s presence. The tight lines of his shoulders betray him though, and the way they shake, just a little, when Tommy claps a hand on his back to guide him towards the center of the stage.  

“Hey Lovett,” Tommy says, breezy and only a little forced, once he leaves Jon in his spot and goes to grab his guitar. He reaches out like he’s going to give Lovett a hug and Lovett pointedly takes a step back. Tommy presses on, undeterred. “Decent flight?”

Lovett just shrugs at him. Emily bites her lip. This is not going well. Not that it was ever going to be _awesome_ and Lovett really should have flown out more than two days before the show, but they could _try_. Dan’s tapping his foot impatiently on the stage until Tanya turns from her conversation with the sound guy.

“Okay take it from the top,” she calls. Kenz tucks into Emily’s side and she reaches an arm around her daughter as Dan steps forward and the music starts. Kenzie’s still shaking a bit and Emily doesn’t blame her. Every muscle in her own body is tense. If this doesn’t go well… 

Surprisingly, the boys sing like they never stopped. Jon misses his first solo entrance, but other than that minor hiccup, they sound _good_. Stage presence needs a bit of work, but that should come. Hopefully they can manage some eye contact with each other, but Emily’s not holding her breath on that one. Three hours of rehearsal later, Jon still hasn’t looked at Lovett once.  

“Okay guys that’s our stage time!” Tanya calls finally. “We’ve got the practice room at eleven tomorrow and then we’re here from three to six again.” 

“Cool,” Tommy says, hopping off the stage easily, like someone who didn’t bitch for forty minutes last week about sharing stage time with the other artists doing the concert. “Dinner?” He addresses the question generally, but everyone knows who he’s asking. Tommy is not subtle. 

“I’ve got… a thing,” Lovett says quickly. He’s one hundred percent lying. Tommy’s face falls. Dan rolls his eyes. Jon looks very focused on the corner of the stage furthest from Lovett. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Don’t be late,” Dan mutters as Lovett hits the doors. Emily and Tommy throw him identical dirty looks. 

“Be more of a dick, Dan,” Tommy says sharply. “It’s clearly a super productive strategy.” 

Emily ignores Dan’s reply and the ensuing bickering in favor of catching Hanna’s eyes. Hanna nods at her and calls Riley from where he’s running around the bleachers. “We’re going to head out,” Emily says, squeezing Tommy’s arm as he passes her her bag. He looks wistful, like he wishes he could come with them. She tilts her head towards Jon, still sulking and Tommy rolls his eyes with reluctant fondness. They’ve both got their hands full tonight. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Emily’s a little worried Lovett’s going to be sitting on the front steps when they pull in the driveway. It’s March in LA so it’s not like it’s cold, but he knows where the spare key is and he might be messed up enough not to use it. The door’s shut when they get there though, and the porch is empty, so she spares a thought for the worse scenario where he’s _not_ here before Kenz shoves the door open.  

Lovett’s sitting on the couch in their living room, staring at the wall, Leo in his lap bonelessly. Riley’s climbing over him before anyone else can greet him, asking about some video game guilelessly. Kenz drops down next to them while Emily and Hanna make dinner. The tense lines of his body relax under the onslaught of love and with the pasta and a glass of wine. 

Eventually, Emily claims Kenzie’s spot while Hanna shoos the kids off to bed. She leans her head against Lovett’s shoulder and waits him out. He sighs, finally, “This was a mistake. They hate me, I shouldn’t be here.” 

“Oh honey.” Her heart breaks at how small and sad he sounds. It’s been so long since he sounded this lost and Emily wonders, horrified, if pushing to get him here had been a mistake. _No, they’re ready_. She turns to look at him head on so he can see the sincerity when she says, “You’re exactly where you belong.”

He shakes his head. “It’s just. I knew it was going to be hard, but Dan is _so mad_ at me. And Jon…” His voice breaks a little when he says Jon’s name.  

Emily bites her lip. “I know,” she says softly. He lets her pull him into a hug and she strokes his back slowly. “Tommy loves you. He’s happy you’re here. And they’ll get over themselves. I’m sure of it.” 

She knows he doesn’t believe her. Hell, she’s not sure she completely believes herself. But he needs to hear it. She knows they were the right words when he relaxes, just a little bit under her hands. 

“Fuck, I hope you’re right.”

 

***

 

Tommy and Emily tag team to get everyone to dinner together after their last day of rehearsals before the concert. It’s still tense, but Lovett is slowly relaxing; actually engaging with Tommy now and chatty with the girls and the kids. Dan gives in as their appetizers arrive, awkwardly asking a follow-up question to the story Lovett’s telling about his neighbor. It’s stilted and nervous, but they’re _talking_. Jon sits in the corner of the table, sullen and silent.

When they get home, it only takes a few minutes for Tommy’s simmering rage to boil over. Jon is leaning in the fridge to grab drinks and when he straightens up with an almost natural smile, Tommy feels his control shatter. “Can I ask you something?” he says sharply, not waiting for Jon to respond before he continues. “Would it have killed you to fucking _try_?”

“What, you want me to plaster over everything with a smile like you do Tommy?” Jon says, eyes already flashing. They’re both so tightly wound, this is going to go zero to sixty in no time at all and even as he thinks it, Tommy knows he’s powerless to stop it. 

“Honestly, if you can’t be an actual adult about it, then yes, I would prefer a fake smile to a sullen moody teenager who’s just been told he can’t go out with his friends, yeah.” 

“You’d prefer a lot of things to me,” Jon says venomously. 

Tommy is genuinely taken aback. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Look I know you’re only with me because you can’t have him,” Jon shouts, voice breaking. Tommy feels like he’s been punched. How dare he… 

“You fucking asshole.” 

“It’s true!” 

Tommy just gapes at him, entire brain filled with the memory of hotel room sheets and Jon’s eyes squeezed closed while Tommy…  "And you wouldn't?" he spits.

"No!" Jon yelps, but his face is stricken. They glower at each other across the room for what seems like an eternity. Some distant part of Tommy’s brain catalogs that Dan is upstairs and has probably finished changing his shirt by now.  

Staring into Jon’s furious face, Tommy deflates first and cries, "God you know I love you both!” He breathes slowly and says more calmly, "I love you all." 

Jon stares at him, eyes hard while Tommy frantically wills himself not to cry with the magnitude of that admission. Finally Jon crosses the room to grab the dog leash on the wall. Lucca comes flying into the room when he shakes it and he clips it to her collar in silence. “I’m going for a walk. Don’t follow me,” Jon says harshly and then the door slams behind him. 

Tommy leans on the counter for support until he can get his breath under control. He’s almost there when he hears the creak of the loose floorboard in the hallway and smiles in spite of himself. He sighs and calls, "You might as well come down."

He can hear the sheepishness as Dan walks down the stairs. Tommy starts to reach in the fridge for beer but course corrects immediately for something stronger. Dan raises an eyebrow at the quantity of whiskey Tommy’s poured when he walks into the kitchen but he takes his glass and leads the way to the couch without comment.  

When they’re seated and he’s taken a couple of too big sips, Tommy says softly, "God don't you just hate them sometimes?" Dan laughs bitterly and clinks their glasses together.

They sit in silence for a minute before Dan says, "he loves you. You know that, right? And he knows you love him." 

Tommy nods. “Yeah I know. We’ll be fine.” He thinks for a second about how much more to say but there’s not, it’s not like there’s a whole lot left to come out, he might as well say it right. This is Dan. Dan’s been here all along, his safest place, his constant sounding board, the person who knows him best in the world. They’ve grown together, every single step of the way. "It's different, you know," Tommy says. " I didn’t realize, with Katie. that it wasn't..."

"Yeah," Dan says immediately, like he didn’t bother to think about it. He looks surprised he’s said it out loud, worried like he’s given something away he didn’t mean to. Tommy feels like he can’t breathe, trying to read his face. "What you and Jon have is special," Dan says carefully.

"No," Tommy says. Dan needs to get this. "I mean yes. But it's not just Jon, it’s different with all of you." Dan sucks in a breath, hard. "Even with Jon and Lovett fighting all day it just... they're different." He slowly, carefully puts a hand on Dan’s knee and takes the leap. "You’re different too, Dan."

Dan swallows.  "Yeah," he says again. "Me too. I didn't… with Sarah I... yeah, it's different." Tommy can tell there's more to say by the set of his jaw so he waits him out. "What we all had. I don't think we, we didn't value it enough. you all were the best of my life.... until Wally, obviously."

Tommy’s heart cracks wide open. "Oh Dan. Me too.” 

Dan smiles gently at him and Tommy knows he knows. They've always gotten each other, the two of them, even when Tommy was young and stupid and looking for all the wrong things. In the end, they're both waiting for their Jons to work it out, always have been. They've had this conversation so many times in so many vaguer words, in bars and backstage and in bed, before either of them knew they were having it. 

Now, on Tommy and Jon’s couch, Dan’s soft smile is a reminder that despite all the years and the distance between them, Dan and Tommy are on the same page; they're there when it's time. Tommy quietly reaches out and refills their glasses with the bottle he brought from the kitchen. Dan lists towards him on the couch and Tommy wraps an arm around him and gently presses his lips to Dan’s forehead. 

When Jon finally comes home an hour later, they’re still nestled together on the couch watching a ridiculous made for TV movie. Jon tentatively walks into the room, slightly sweaty from what was likely several dozen angry circuits of the neighborhood. When Tommy doesn’t react to his presence, he crosses the room to tuck into the couch on Tommy’s other side and very softly and meekly says, "sorry."

"Yeah I know." Tommy says tiredly. There’s so much more to say but neither of them is going to be able to do it tonight and he needs to get his own thoughts in order before he tries to explain them to Jon. Jon reaches out to steal a sip of Tommy’s whiskey, tentatively mischievous  and Tommy laughs when he makes a face as he swallows.

 

***

 

“...Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to tell you to put your hands together for PSA.” Tommy rolls his eyes performatively as the announcer finally finishes a long-winded ramble about their reunion and leads the way out from the wings, Jon close behind. Dan laughs, hanging back to watch them for a second, savoring the moment. He’d really thought they were never going to be back here again. He doesn’t even mind the production of it all in the familiar glow of the the lights and cheering.  

Lovett coughs a little, startling Dan out of his thoughts and they walk onstage together towards where Jon’s sat down on the platform, waving at the crowd while Tommy talks. “...we’re so happy to be back here with you tonight for a great cause. Now it’s been a while so you’ll have to forgive us if we’re a little rusty.” 

Dan’s heart feels so full listening to the crowd laugh, Tommy has never thought he was good at this, but the fans have always loved him. He stepped into this leading role reluctantly when Jon abdicated it, but he’s such a natural at it that it’s hard to remember it used to be different. Jon’s smiling fondly when Dan steps past him to take his place, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder along the way. Jon lifts his eyebrows, _here we go_.  

Lovett’s already perched on the opposite corner, as far as he can get from Jon, looking so nervous. Dan suddenly feels the overwhelming rush of protective affection that he’s been hoping would come over him since Tommy asked him to _try to fix it with Lovett, I know you want to_ two nights ago. It’s easy as anything to take the three steps to Lovett, to set a hand on his shoulder and lean into his space. It’s harder to smile as encouragingly as he can and say, “you’re going to be great,” when Lovett’s looking at him like that, like Dan’s as frightening as the stage, but the dazzling _real_ smile he gets in return is worth it.

“We’re going to start off with a song that fits the theme of tonight. I can’t speak for anyone else, but being here on this stage with all of you, it feels a lot like coming home for me.” Tommy’s ostensibly still talking to the crowd, but the look on his face when he turns around is just for the three of them. He nods his head at Dan as the band starts to play and Dan nods back. _This is it_.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tommy lean in to whisper in Lovett’s ear. Lovett laughs happily at whatever he’s said. Then Dan hears his cue and they’re off. Dan didn’t realize how much he missed this until now, when he finishes his first solo, watching the crowd scream the lyrics with him; until Tommy picks up the verse with the biggest grin on his face. It’s been so long and yet it’s as natural as breathing, to be here on stage with them, voices blending together. 

Dan feels his chest tighten when it’s time for the newest song in their set, the only one off their last album. There’d been a couple stumbles at rehearsal, rearranging it for four instead of three; not just fitting Lovett back in, but making a space for him where there hadn’t been one. Tonight, it’s nearly perfect. Jon and Lovett both miss cues by the tiniest fraction, jumping in a half a beat ahead of where they should, but it’s likely imperceptible to anyone else. When the crowd’s cheering as the music stops, they’re all grinning. Meant for four all along.

The next few songs fly by and the beat for their closing is starting before Dan’s even processed that it’s time. Dan can see that Jon’s fingers are still twitching a little on the mic, but he sounds and looks as comfortable as ever addressing the crowd. “It’s hard to believe it’s going on seventeen years since we first performed this song. We’re getting creakier and grayer but you’re all as wonderful and beautiful as ever, thank you so much for being here through it all.” 

It really feels like being eighteen again, launching into their first hit to the sound of screams. They haven’t moved around the stage all that much tonight, out of practice with the casual touches and looks that used to define their stage presence, but it’s impossible not to move towards each other now. Tommy slings an arm around Dan’s shoulders as they roll into the last chorus and Dan tilts his head toward him with a grin. Jon’s close on Tommy’s other side, so Dan reaches out for Lovett. They’re standing together, beaming, when the lights go dark.

Backstage, it’s just… simple as anything to fall into a group hug with the girls and their band. Second nature. Lovett ends up tucked under Dan’s arm. He starts to squirm away when the circle breaks up and Dan’s arm tightens around his shoulder without conscious intent. He hadn’t planned it, but he’s certain of what comes next.

"Don't bail," Dan says sharply. "Don't you fucking bail." Lovett goes limp and allows himself to be tugged along to the limo and the after-party. He stays pretty close all night, like all he was waiting for was an invitation, evidence that Dan still cared. Something in Dan’s chest loosens every time their eyes meet. _Maybe_.

 

***

 

The morning after the concert is bright and warm. Too bright and warm, Jon thinks miserably, when he’s following Dan down the street. He’s leaning against Tommy as they walk in hopes that he’ll bear some of the weight of his pounding headache, exacerbated by the light. 

Tanya opens Emily and Hanna’s door, too peppy by half. “Good morning Jon!” she says cheerfully, leaning into his face. He hates her so much. 

“I’m going to fire you,” he tells her seriously. “We have discussed the rule against meetings before noon on post-show days _so many times_.” Tommy laughs beside him while Tanya just raises her eyebrows. She could at least look a little chastened by his empty threats.  

“T, what’s it like to work with such an unbearable diva?” Hanna asks as she appears in the hall. “Stop standing in the doorway like creeps, we made pancakes.”

“Pancakes!” Tommy repeats, delighted, any residual annoyance at being woken up at eight a.m. by a cryptic phone call forgotten in the face of sugar. 

“Pancakes with blueberries,” Kenz contributes from her perch on the kitchen counter as Jon enters the room. She’s leaning over the griddle proprietarily, watching Lovett flip pancakes. He’s got a ridiculous flowered apron tied over his t-shirt and flour in his hair. Jon clenches his fingers against the urge to comb it out and firmly looks away. 

A light hand lands on his elbow and Jon looks down to find Emily next to him, a cup of coffee held out. He takes it gratefully and murmurs his thanks. “Okay, plates, food, living room, meeting!” Tanya says briskly, clapping her hands and pushing Tommy towards the counter. It’s hopeless to resist her when she gets into taskmaster mode, so they all follow her instructions with minimal grumbling.

When they’re all seated in the living room, most of the way through their breakfasts, Tanya claps her hands again, pushing up from the arm of Hanna’s chair.  “So I spent all last night fielding phone calls,” Tanya says. “How would you guys feel about doing a reunion tour?” 

Jon’s brain goes completely offline. There are questions flying, details being added, considerations discussed. He doesn’t hear any of it. There’s a tiny crack in Emily and Hanna’s living room ceiling that he’s never noticed before. He could maybe fix that for them. Or Tommy could, rather, but Jon could… hand him things. It probably just needs a bit of plaster and a coat of paint, it doesn’t look like real damage. 

“I’d do it.” Jon is jerked roughly back to earth by the shocking sound of Dan agreeing to a completely insane idea. Dan! Dan’s the sensible one. He’s supposed to be the one to see that trying to replicate what they used to have, twelve years later, so twisted and changed and broken and healed, it could never work. Last night was great, it went unbelievably well. But a tour. A tour, with months together. Staying on the same floor in hotels, seeing them every day. Seeing _Lovett_ every day. It’s insane.

“I’m in. But only if its all of us,” Tommy says, next to Jon on the couch. Jon can’t move, can’t look away from the stupid crack in the ceiling. 

Then the persuasion starts. “There are so many of your fans who want this," Tanya says. “You know that Jon, they’ve been asking you about it for years.” He really and truly hates her. 

Emily is giggling. “I want to see you perform for the housewives the teenage girls have become, set them free boys." There’s a soft sound and an “Ouch!” that likely means Hanna shoved at her shoulder. The part of Jon’s brain that’s always tracking him wonders whether Lovett’s smirking at them, from his spot on the ground by Emily’s knee, or whether he’s looking at Tommy or at Dan or at the crack in the ceiling.

It’s Lovett himself who speaks next. Jon literally cannot believe what he’s hearing. This is the strangest delusion his drunk brain has ever cooked up while he sleeps.

“I... I’d do it. If you'll have me," Lovett says. He sounds as vulnerable and raw as Jon feels.

"Yeah," Dan says.

“Of course," Tommy adds. Of course.

"Jon?" Lovett asks, voice trembling.  

Jon can feel himself start to shake. The crack in the ceiling blurs. He doesn’t know what to do. He loves them. He loves performing with them. The deepest part of his heart is screaming _yes! yes! yes!_ He’s loved his own music and his own tours but there’s something in him that feels like it clicked back into place at long last onstage with them last night.  

But, he’s not ready. He can’t do this. He can’t go on tour with them, with Lovett. He can’t look at Lovett every day and be taken back to that hotel room. He can’t carry the weight of the way he himself killed this thing, took a broken thing and shattered it. What happens when they realize, once and for all that the shards can’t be put back together. When Tommy and Dan, who he’s got _back_ , realize that the scar tissue is meant to be left alone, not examined under stage lights.  

Then Tommy takes his hand. Tommy is warm and solid next to him and they’re all agreeing, even Lovett agreeing to spend so much time near him. Agreeing to try, to try to fix it, together. Tommy’s holding on to him, tethering him to earth and suddenly all he can see is Tommy at twenty-three, broken, screaming at him about how he was breaking the most important thing they had. Jon can’t let Tommy down again. He can’t let any of them down again.

“Yeah," Jon says roughly. "Yeah, lets do it."


	7. So many words we're not saying, don't want to wait 'til it's gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to believe it’s been twelve years sometimes. When they’re sitting like this, easy together, it could have been no time at all. But the gaping hole in his heart that’s slowly closing seems like it’s been there for an eternity.

Lovett calls Tommy five times in the month before the tour starts threatening to drop out. Each time, Tommy reminds himself _you want this_ , talks him off the ledge, and then calls Dan to bitch. Each call makes him surer, too. He knows what _he_ wants. He has to talk to Jon.  

A week before Lovett and Dan are scheduled to fly back in for rehearsals, he pulls the trigger. They’re lying in bed, Jon idly tracing Tommy’s freckles with the pensive expression that means he’s reminiscing. Tommy breathes in slow and easy before he says, "can we talk?"

Jon groans, "Do we have to?"  
  
"Yes we fucking have to." If Jon was hoping Tommy was just magically going to forget about the elephant in the room, he’s got another thing coming. He’s careful with his words when he starts, just like he’s been rehearsing in his head for weeks, since that fight. “What would you do if he still loved you?" 

Jon doesn’t pretend he doesn’t follow, at least. "He doesn't." Jon says, sharp and final. 

God he’s oblivious. And he’s not getting off that easy. “But what if?" Jon scoffs at him and sits up, leaning against the headboard, his whole body scowling. "Okay we'll start the other way." Tommy says smoothly, pushing up on an elbow to look at him. "What about Dan?"

It looks like Jon forgets to breathe for a solid minute before he mumbles, "I... Dan doesn't want to be in the middle of this mess."

"Jon, fucking stop it," Tommy says, voice finally rising a bit. They _have_ to talk about this before they go on tour. He can’t wait any longer to voice what he wants and they’re not going to get anywhere if Jon refuses to approach the conversation like an adult.  "Can you stop being so fucking stubborn and accept the premise of my questions for a second?" 

Jon looks down at his hands, silent. Tommy closes his eyes and takes three calming breaths before continuing. "Assume for a moment that Dan loves you every bit as much as he has for decades,” he says urgently. “Assume that Jon, I’m begging you to play along." 

“I don't know Tommy,” Jon says rapidly. “It's all so complicated." That’s not a no, if he plays his cards right here.

"It didn't used to be,” Tommy replies softly.  “It doesn't have to be" 

There’s a memory in his head, one that Dan brought up three years ago, that’s been circling his brain ever since. It’s strange, the way you can fixate on the silliest things, all four of them in one hotel room, tangled up on a king size bed so that they couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. The way Lovett casually picked apart the movie Jon had picked in a sappy mood, the absurd quantities of junk food half-eaten around them. The way it felt, safe and warm, as they each drifted off and woke up sweaty and grumpy in the morning. He’s not sure yet how to convince Jon that that moment is the way they should spend the rest of their lives, but he has to try. 

Jon sighs exhaustedly. "Tommy what do you want?"

 _Slow. Careful_. "I just want us all to be, happy,” Tommy says gently.  “I just. I love all three of you so much and I want us all to be happy together again. I don't care how, I don't care when. But I hate this rift because it makes you both so sad.”

Jon doesn’t say anything to that and Tommy doesn’t push. He just needed to put it out there. Needed Jon to know where he stood. After a long silence, Jon slides back down the mattress and curls back towards him. Tommy rests a hand on his shoulder and gently strokes up and down, Jon’s deliberate breathing the only sound in the room.

 

***

 

“It’s been eleven years since PSA performed together and there’s a burning question on everyone’s lips with this reunion tour. Will you finally tell us what the name stands for?” Tommy doesn’t need to look around to know that all of them are staring at the interviewer with the same practiced blank look. 

None of them love the press junket of starting a tour and this one is particularly brutal because they’re trying, and mostly failing, to simulate a dynamic that hasn’t existed for a decade. It’s close to normal when Jon laughs and says, “Megan, I really doubt that _that_ is the most important question our fans have.” 

“Maybe not,” she giggles, which means he’s given her a teen heartthrob smile. Also normal. “But won’t you tell me?” She puts an emphasis on ‘me’ that all but confirms Tommy’s vague recollection that she’s one of the girls Jon dated briefly and showily a decade ago. Unfortunately normal. 

What’s not normal is the pause that follows her second question. Tommy knows that Dan and Jon are waiting, just like he is, for the joke that doesn’t come. He looks at Lovett out of the corner of his eye, sitting still as a statue, legs crossed under him, with that same blandly pleasant smile he walked into the room with. _Come on_ , Tommy thinks at him. _You can do it, just, reuse one. Proficient Sarcastic Accountants, Precious Salty Anteaters, even Dan’s stupid favorite: Pineapple Selling Adams. Lovett, Lovett, please._

Either Tommy hasn’t mastered ESP or Lovett is ignoring him, because he lets the silence hang until Dan says, “We couldn’t tell you at this point if we wanted to. I think what’s neat is that there are so many people who are still interested in coming out to hang with us, regardless of what we’re called.” Megan takes the bait and transitions to talking about their fans and the sold out arenas and the moment passes. 

The night before their first performance together, they still hadn’t managed to name the band. They were anxious about performing and stressed out and more than a little drunk. None of them remember who brought it up but at 2 a.m, Lovett’s ridiculous bit of repeating “Public Service Announcement” in a robotic voice, followed by a dry recitation of famous pop song lyrics was the funniest thing any of them had ever heard. The next morning, with a sidelong look at Lovett and an uncharacteristic giggle, Dan had said “PSA” to the producers and they were off to the races.

Seventeen years later, it’s passed embarrassing and circled back to being one of the funniest things Tommy’s ever experienced, but when they started to succeed and were asked what the acronym stood for, they all looked at each other, suddenly ashamed. It almost certainly wasn’t that funny to begin with and in the light of day it was clear that Lovett’s robot voice was a ‘had to be there’ joke. The question hung awkwardly, on live television, until Lovett lifted his chin defiantly and said with a completely straight face, “Pedantic Super Arrows.”

Tommy and Dan and Jon dissolved into giggles and the joke was born. Every time they were asked about the band name, Lovett supplied an increasingly ridiculous answer. _Pea Soup for Adults; Pretty Serious Attitude; Purple Smelly Aardvarks_. They sold t-shirts with some of his more popular names, fans tweeted suggestions, Lovett glowed with the laughter and the attention.

Over the years, the other three boys never got the knack of the names. Dan deadpanned in an interview once: _Petty Student Activists_ and Lovett fell out of his chair laughing while the interviewers looked at him, perplexed. Tommy gave Dan a disappointed look and he just shrugged. Jon tried to do it a couple times but always dissolved into giggles before he could get a name out.

Tommy always maintained a personable non-answer in public. He whispered his ideas to Lovett backstage before a show, when they were shoving their bags into the overhead bins on planes, and once, as he was about to put his mouth on Lovett’s dick. That’s the one Lovett used in their next interview and Tommy can never look at the t-shirt that reads _Personable Smelling Akitas_ without an uncomfortable blood rush.  

One of the many weird things about interviews once Lovett left them was the lack of silly names. They got asked as if it was the gotcha question that was going to prove they were falling apart. Dan pointed at the PSA logo on his shirt with a nervous chuckle. Tommy said patiently, “It’s always been more about the music for us than the branding” in his best imitation of Jon’s smooth press voice. Jon sat beside him, every muscle in his body tight, eyes fixed on a point above the interviewer’s head like it held the key to the universe, the polite smile Tommy quickly learned to hate on his face. 

It’s a month into the reunion tour before they get asked again. They’ve known Jim since they were teenagers and Tommy knows he’d cut it out of the interview if they really asked. He leans forward with a devious grin when he asks, “so anyone want to resolve the biggest mystery of the modern era?” 

Tommy is opening his mouth to deflect with a bad joke about Dan’s obsession with cucumber water when Lovett says tentatively, “why people don’t understand how to walk on a moving sidewalk in an airport? Political Social Anxiety, Jim.” 

It hangs for a second before they all get it. Tommy starts laughing from relief as much as from amusement. On the other couch, Dan chuckles low and easy and Jon is laughing in spite of himself. Jim guffaws amicably before saying, “Not one of your best Lovett.” 

Lovett looks around at all of their laughing faces and grins, shifting on his heels in the seat and settling in. “I’m a little rusty Jim, sue me. Anyways, I’m Lovett, this is Tommy, Favs, and Dan and we are Perfunctory Stage Attack.”

 

***

 

Jon didn’t really mean to get through all of their rehearsals and the first two weeks of the tour without directly interacting with Lovett. Tommy doesn’t ever believe him during their semi-weekly fights about it, but he doesn’t _mean_ to ice him out. It’s just that his best intentions of ‘being the bigger person’ and ‘building bridges’ fade as soon as Lovett’s in his line of sight. Lovett left him and never even tried to reach out. The first words they exchange after twelve years aren’t on Jon’s shoulders.

In the end, neither of them make the move. They’re soundchecking in Miami and Jon forgot his water bottle in the dressing room. He’s reading a tweet as he walks backstage, a habit Tanya’s been trying to break him of for years, and just full on crashes into Lovett. 

Jon didn’t even realize Lovett wasn’t on stage. They stare at each other for a really long time, deer trapped in each others' headlights, before Lovett awkwardly says "Sorry I.." 

 _Fuck_. Jon has to swallow hard before he can grit out, "No I'm...just going for water." Lovett is right there and his eyes are so wide and so beautiful. Jon can’t look away now that he's looking again. He's just frozen, and Lovett is staring at his chin, like he can’t meet Jon’s eyes but he can’t move away.  

Neither of them moves until Tommy calls Lovett’s name from the stage. “We should probably-" Lovett mutters. _Right, move_. Jon forces himself to step to the side so Lovett can get past him. It’s a herculean effort. Lovett just barely brushes against his shoulder as he walks past but he feels like he’s on fire.

He’s still rubbing his shoulder hours later, thinking about it. _Maybe Lovett’s just as stuck as he is_.

Jon couldn’t say what switch that encounter flips in his head, but the next day, he doesn’t even think about it before he asks at lunch, “Hey Lovett, pass me the ketchup?” 

Tommy and Dan both visibly freeze and he’s pretty sure they kick each other under the table because no matter how much they like to pretend they’re the grownups, they’re still gossipy teenagers on the inside. Lovett takes a second to react, like he didn’t recognize his name from Jon’s mouth but then he just rolls the ketchup down the table and moves on, like it's an everyday thing, now.

A week later, Tommy and Dan are sharing one side of the booth when Jon gets to breakfast. Lovett shows up ten minutes later, still bleary eyed. He pauses by the end of the table, assessing, before sliding in next to Jon. It's not, like, comfortable, but it's okay. 

For the first time, Jon wonders if there’s going to be a day when it’s not weird. They’re never going to be what they were. What he thought they were was mostly an illusion, after all, he’s accepted that. But maybe, maybe they can be friends again. Rebuilding just like this, piece by unremarkable piece.

 

***

 

“I’m going to get a drink,” Jon says sharply when they get out of the elevator. 

Tommy sighs exasperatedly at him. They fought all through dinner after Jon snapped at Lovett for taking too long to get in the car at the airport and Lovett stalked off to his room and refused to come out. _One step forward, three steps back,_ Dan thinks, but it’s frustrating as hell and he doesn’t blame Tommy for being so done. “I was just thinking we’d go back to the room. No reason to deal with the bar right now?”

“I don’t need a babysitter Tommy, go to bed.” Jon stalks off towards the bar. It’s club level so it’s not like it’s going to be mobbed with fans or reporters, but still.

Tommy looks torn. “I’ll go,” Dan tells him softly, Tommy gives him a pained smile. “He’s not mad at _me_ yet, I’ve got it. Go sleep.” 

“Okay,” Tommy agrees. Dan gives him a last smile and heads after Jon. 

“You didn’t have to-” Jon says immediately when Dan takes the stool next to him at the bar. 

“Maybe I wanted a drink too,” Dan cuts him off, voice pitched even but firm. He needs a drink, actually. “Can I get a dry martini?” he says to the bartender. “And-” 

“No olives,” Jon chimes in. Dan knows he’s got a stupid grin on his face at that. Jon’s such a mess right now, avoiding Lovett and snarking at Tommy, making dumb mistakes on stage. But he remembers Dan’s drink choices from when they were eighteen, thinking they were sly with fake IDs and not just getting drinks on their fame. 

“Did you see that there’s some crazy supermoon tomorrow?” It’s a stupid conversation starter, but he might as well throw Jon a line. They can do this, sit easily and talk about meaningless things. 

“Yeah, I did. Maybe we’ll see some werewolves out after the show,” Jon says, deadpan. Dan looks at him for a minute, lips pressed together before they both dissolve into giggles. God he’s missed this. Jon’s been around, especially the last couple years, but Dan doesn’t remember the last time it was just the two of them like this, able to enjoy each other and feel their obligations lifted away like they’re tied to balloons. 

They’re almost done with their second round of drinks when there’s a nervous cough behind them. “I’m sorry, are you... Jon Favreau?” Jon bites his lip, face reflecting annoyance for a split second before he slides on a smile and spins to chat with her. Dan watches him out of the corner of his eye, not sad at all to go unrecognized 

Jon turns back around and leans forward on his elbows. “There are at least three other people looking now,” he mumbles sadly.

“Want to go hang out in my room?” Dan offers, mostly expecting Jon to call it a night and go apologize to Tommy. Instead he nods, pushing back his stool. 

Five episodes of _Brooklyn 99_ and half the minibar later, Jon turns towards him where they’re sprawled out on the bed. He looks like he’s thinking about something, but he stays silent. Dan’s always been okay with pushing him forward. “You know, this almost feels like old times,” Dan says slowly. “How many nights did we all hang out watching TV like this?” 

“God you sound like Tommy,” Jon bitches. Dan feels his eyebrows shoot up of their own accord. _Okay_. “All this good old days shit with the rose colored glasses.”

Dan looks at him intently. “You don’t miss it?” He knows it was the right question when Jon pushes up onto his elbows, every line in his body tense.

“Sure I do, but it’s not- it’s been twelve fucking years Dan. And what, we’re supposed to just pretend none of it happened?” Jon’s voice is rising quickly. “We’re supposed to all be best buds like he didn’t-” _There it is_. “And the king of repression is all sunny and delighted and _isn’t this just the best? Jon why can’t you just have fun?_ ”

“Oh come on Jon. Tommy’s not the one you’re angry with,” Dan says calmly. Jon stares at him, eyes flashing. Dan meets his gaze head on, unflinching.

Finally, Jon deflates. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “I’m just…”

“Angry,” Dan repeats. “You’re allowed to be, you know that right?” 

Jon laughs bitterly. “That is _not_ the problem. I’m fucking overflowing with anger and I know exactly why.”  

“What is the problem then?”

Jon is silent for a long time. Dan waits him out. Jon feels so deeply all the time; sometimes it takes him a bit to put it into words. Tommy’s trying to help but he doesn’t remember anymore, what it’s like to not have Lovett. Or what it’s like to not have Jon. 

“I... I don’t…” Jon mumbles. “The problem is that I wish I wasn’t. I don’t want to be angry anymore, but I can’t…” 

“Oh Jon. That’s a lot of hurt to get over,” Dan says carefully. “I think it’s understandable if it takes some time, I certainly don’t know how to just go there.” 

Jon looks at him contemplatively, “You’re managing though. You were pissed off at first.” 

“I just got tired of being angry.” Dan replies, honest. “A long time ago I think. We were kids, we all fucked up. The… the love’s still there, yeah? It’s a lot stronger than the hurt I think. I’ve just been leaning into that.” 

“Oh…” Jon says. It looks like he’s puzzling something out. Dan’s not sure he wants to know what, with the way Jon’s looking at him. “Okay,” he says at last in a small voice before flopping dramatically back into the pillows. Dan takes the cue to hit play on the remote. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knows, he’s waking up to sunshine through the windows and Jon is gone.

 

***

 

Sarah drives to their Atlanta stop in mid-June to send Wally on tour with them for a couple months. She looks exhausted and relieved when Dan pulls him out of the backseat with his assorted pile of coloring books and video games. “You sure you don’t want to stay tonight?” Dan asks. She shakes her head. 

“No, I’m going to head back. Seriously Dan, let me know if this gets to be too much, for either of you.” They’ve had a lot of long conversations about this, Sarah unconvinced that their crazy nine-year old spending the summer underfoot on tour is really going to work out.

"I will, promise. Hanna brought Riley and Kenz out last week, and I think Ri’s been counting down the days til Wally got here.” Wally is currently squirming out of his grasp. “Hey kid, say bye to Mom and then we can go inside and find them.”

“Bye Mom,” Wally says quickly, immediately tugging Dan’s hand again. 

“Bye sweetie,” Sarah says, blowing him a kiss. “Call me all the time. You too Dad.” Dan waves over his shoulder at her as he’s towed into the building. 

After they drop Wally’s bags off in one of the dressing rooms, Dan walks him around backstage to introduce him to the road crew members he hadn’t met during charity concert prep over spring break. They wander onto the stage and find Lovett and Tommy fucking around before soundcheck with Tommy’s guitar. 

Wally immediately sprints for Tommy and almost bowls him over with enthusiasm before Tommy recovers and scoops him up to fake toss him in the air. Lovett is watching them carefully and Dan feels a sharp twist of realization. Lovett’s never actually met Wally. 

Dan’s not stupid. He knows that Lovett has definitely seen pictures of the kid on the internet if nothing else, not to mention Emily and Hanna’s information flow. But it’s still a big shock to the careful reconstruction of their friendship to realize that he’s got to fumble through this introduction.

“You’re going to throw out your back. You aren’t twenty anymore,” Lovett says wryly as Tommy lifts Wally up again. Tommy just laughs but Wally is staring at Lovett with interest. Dan sees his mouth open and jumps in before whatever question he’s going to ask can make it out. 

“Oh yeah, Wally this is Lovett, he's like, in the band with us,” he says, cringing at how awkward he sounds. Wally definitely knows who Lovett is as a concept, even if he doesn’t know what he looks like. "Lovett... this is my son Wally."

Lovett gives him a concerned look, probably wondering why Dan can’t complete a fucking sentence. He rolls his eyes at whatever he sees on Dan’s face and turns towards Wally where Tommy has set him down on the stage. “Hey. You want to come check out the microphones?" 

Tommy slaps a casual hand on Dan’s shoulder and he leans into the touch and tries to regain his composure as they disappear offstage. He only has a few minutes to breathe before the whole theater echoes with a screech of feedback and Lovett and Wally come running back out, pursued by their harried sound guy. Thankfully, Hanna appears a minute later and takes Wally and Riley off somewhere while soundcheck actually progresses. Dan is going to owe her so much wine by the end of this.

 

***

 

“Guys slow down!” Tommy calls helplessly as Riley and Wally nearly knock over the AV cart a very tired looking PA is pushing through the hallway. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, ducking past her to try and at least keep them in sight. The kids have only been on tour with them for a week and pretty much every member of the production crew is already over them.

They skid to a stop at the bend in the hallway so Wally can dart into the dressing room. He yells so loud they can probably hear it in the next building, "Uncle Lovett! Can you help us find the secret passageway behind the stage?" 

He’s tugging Lovett by the hand when he reappears in the hallway, slowed down enough that Tommy has almost caught up. Lovett is staring down at him, looking stunned. "You don't... Lovett is fine,” he offers quietly. Wally might not even hear him, he’s already running off again. 

It makes sense. Wally is always with Riley. Riley and Kenz call him Uncle Lovett easy as anything of course and Wally has always called Jon and Tommy, Uncle Jon and Uncle Tommy. It’s just natural speech patterns that he’d adopt the title without thinking about it. Without knowing what it means to Lovett, still so nervous with Dan. What it’ll mean to Dan to hear it.

Lovett’s still staring, speechless, when Tommy catches up to him. Tommy taps his shoulder lightly and jerks his head towards the kids. “You got caught up in this adventure too?” Lovett asks as they walk. 

“My turn on wild child duty,” Tommy jokes. The boys are a lot more to handle than Kenzie had been even in her most terrible twos, but he’s pretty sure none of them would trade this for anything. “Hang a left Wally, and then stop so I can show you the entrance,” he calls ahead, picking up the pace. 

“God I forgot this was even here,” Lovett says as Tommy slides aside the curtain and helps Riley slide the panel aside. This had either been a storage space or a pass through for actors when this concert hall was built. It’s small and dusty and the boys look as delighted as he’d hoped they’d be.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, letting Lovett step through before with a sidelong glance. Lovett turns in the narrow tunnel to smirk at him. They’d found the passageway together on, god, their second tour. They’d used it for a less wholesome purpose than Tommy has planned today. “How long do you think-?” 

“Gross Tommy,” Lovett giggles. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter. Maybe I was just going to ask how long you think this tunnel’s been here.” He waggles his eyebrows, gratified when Lovett falls dramatically to the ground next to Riley. “What do ya think Ri? Are there ghosts?” 

“We should have brought night vision goggles!” Riley says eagerly. 

“Or blacklights…” Lovett mutters. Tommy elbows him before digging in his bag. 

“You know what concert hall ghosts love?” he asks conspiratorially. Wally and Riley lean towards him, faces lit by tiny pinpricks of light through the wooden slats above them. “Sour skittles!”

Tommy passes out his supply of forbidden sugar, as eager as the kids. “Oh I see,” Lovett says fondly. “You’re not the accomplice, you’re the instigator.”

“Guilty as charged,” Tommy laughs. “Twizzler?” 

The way Lovett leans into his side as he tells ghost stories for the next half hour is worth the lecture they get when Emily catches them all out at soundcheck, betrayed by the telltale stain of the blue FunDips on their lips.

 

***

 

They’re already running late when they board the flight to London so Jon doesn’t think twice when he walks to the seat printed on the ticket Tanya hands him. He’s buckled in and starting to feel the familiar swell of anxiety at the prospect of the long flight ahead when someone pauses in the aisle next to him.

He looks up to see Lovett frozen in the aisle, headphones still on, eyes flicking from his ticket to the seat number on the ceiling to the empty seat next to Jon. He turns like he’s looking for assistance, but is quickly shooed into the seat by a harried looking flight attendant. Jon twists around in his own seat to see Tommy, next to Kenz a couple rows back, looking at him with concern. Lovett shoves his backpack under the seat and sits down in silence so Jon follows his lead and stares resolutely ahead. 

He’s forgotten about everything other than the fact that he’s hurtling through the air in a pressurized metal cage twenty minutes later, halfway through the most turbulent take-off he’s ever experienced. Jon’s hands are losing circulation, he’s gripping the seat so hard when he hears a noise beside him. 

Jon turns his head minutely to see Lovett shifting next to him, face thoughtful. He keeps his eyes on Jon while he’s turning in his seat, tucking a leg up, taking up space like he owns it. “Did you know that plane wings aren’t horizontal?” Lovett says. Jon stares at him mutely as he goes into some horrible boring explanation of lift and air pressure. “...and yeah, that’s how planes stay up.” 

Jon had forgotten that they were in a plane during Lovett’s tangent and its use of incomprehensible math words, but at the mention of staying up, his stomach drops and he twists unconsciously to look at the window. 

“Hey,” Lovett says insistently. Jon turns back to look at him as he drags a notebook and pen out of his backpack. He opens to a new page and starts scrawling on it. “I have these dumb lyrics in my head, help me with them?” 

Jon’s pretty sure Lovett has come up with this shit on the fly. The lines scrawled on the page are absolutely horrendous and Jon tells him so. Lovett just laughs at him, daring him to make it better, so he steals Lovett’s pen and draws a harsh line through all but three words. “Okay these are good, we can build on this.” 

Tommy gets up when the fasten seatbelt sign finally goes off a whole two hours into the flight. He walks forward like he’s going to the bathroom, actually going to check on Jon after two hours of turbulence and forced proximity to Lovett. He’s shocked to see their heads bent together over Lovett’s tray table, a notebook filled with scribbled words in front of them. Tommy gapes at them from the aisle and then moves backwards, afraid to jinx it by drawing attention to himself.

On his way back to his seat, he nudges Dan and jerks his head forward. Dan takes a break from trying to distract Wally with a wordsearch and leans out into the aisle so far that he almost falls out of his seat. Tommy smacks his arm reproachfully as Emily twists in her seat across the aisle to laugh at him. Lovett’s laugh carries through the aisles a few minutes later when the flight attendants have come around with bad snacks and Tommy feels his heart lift at the sound. It’s been so long since he heard Jon make Lovett laugh.

When they land four hours later, Jon and Lovett are a little stilted as they get off the plane, like they’ve remembered that it’s supposed to be awkward between them with the loss of pressurized air. They pile into cars and check into the hotel in relative silence, or as much silence as their group ever manages. After they drop their bags in their room, they head down for dinner and Tommy sees that Jon is clutching the notebook from the plane.

When they’re waiting for their food, Jon shoves the notebook at Dan. “Look at this for me?” he asks, tentative. Dan takes it carefully and looks down. Tommy hops up from his seat beside Jon and walks around the table to lean over Dan’s shoulder and read. 

“It’s not. It’s not done yet,” Lovett bitches. Dan holds up a hand, which doesn’t stop Lovett from continuing to quietly grumble. “I just, you can’t judge it like it’s complete, we were literally just fucking around on the plane.” 

Tommy squeezes Dan’s shoulder when he finishes reading, already humming a melody to go along with the lyrics under his breath. Dan looks up a second later and says easily, “this is really good.” Lovett and Jon both glow with the praise.

After their meal, they go to Dan’s room by unspoken agreement. It’s the closest thing neutral ground, with a guaranteed endpoint when Wally has to go to bed. Tommy stops off at their room to grab his guitar and they all cluster on the beds. 

It feels like old times, huddled together around a new piece of music. Everyone throwing out melodies and key choices and lyrical changes. Lovett scrawls notes the whole time until Dan pulls out a clean sheet and makes a new and fresh copy. Tommy doesn’t know how much time has passed but he’s certain when he calls it. “Let’s do a quick recording,” he says, pulling out his phone.

He plays it back afterwards and they all sit there, smiling like idiots at each other. Tommy carefully clips a bit of it and texts it to Elijah to post on Twitter. It goes viral instantaneously and they have a trending hashtag in seconds. They’ve been on a well-received tour for two months, but that hotel room jam is the first time Tommy thinks to himself, crystal clear, _this could still work_.

 

***

 

Dan’s in the hotel breakfast room, enjoying a rare moment of solitude, when Lovett walks in and sits across from him. "I'm sorry I was a dick," he says without preamble. Dan looks up at him across his coffee mug and mutely pushes the coffee pot across the table. Lovett takes it and fills the empty mug in front of him, all while barely breaking eye contact. 

So they’re doing this now. Dan finishes his coffee and says calmly, "You were a really big dick."

"Yeah I know," Lovett says, unflinching.

"I did nothing to you and you told me that I was a dictator who kept you from enjoying yourself and achieving your full potential.” Dan’s been thinking about this conversation for years and he’s still surprised that he manages to keep his voice level.

"I did," Lovett says. "You did call me a selfish child who didn't care about anyone but myself, and you know that's not true." Dan inclines his head in rueful recognition, even as he marvels that Lovett remembers their last fight in as much detail as he does.

"You changed your phone number," Dan says. "You didn't speak to us for like twelve years."

"I lost my phone and didn't know who could have gotten their hands on it, but true," Lovett agrees. His mouth twists into a thin line. "You didn't speak to me either."

"I didn't think you wanted me to." 

"Same."

They're quiet for a moment. Lovett reaches over to steal a muffin from Dan's plate and Dan halfheartedly swats at his hand before refilling both their coffee mugs.  It’s hard to believe it’s been twelve years sometimes. When they’re sitting like this, easy together, it could have been no time at all. But the gaping hole in his heart that’s slowly closing seems like it’s been there for an eternity.

"I missed you," Lovett says finally.

"I missed you too. Obviously.” Dan grins. Lovett smiles, just a little, but the light in his eyes could light up a whole theater. 

 

***

“Hey what can I help you with?” Dan asks as he walks, slightly unsteady, to the table where Emily is setting up for lunch.

“There’s not a whole lot left to do until the pizza gets here,” Emily replies, handing over a couple boxes of plastic silverware. “If you’re over the magic of go-karting, you can set those out though.” 

Dan laughs, “I was never really _into_ the magic of go-karting and now I’m very dizzy. Also Wally just informed me that I’m not fun enough.”

Emily winces sympathetically. “Ouch.” Dan shrugs, unfazed. They work for a bit to the sound of giggles and engines from the track. “So I saw the tweet is gone,” Emily says, when she figures he’s not expecting it.

Dan freezes for a second before faking nonchalance. “Oh is it?”

“Mmhmm. That seems like it’s directly _not_ what we talked about,” Emily says pointedly. Four days ago, some kid had managed to film what was, to be fair, a spectacular temper tantrum by Wally in the airport McDonalds. It had predictably blown up on Twitter and Emily and Dan had spent several hours cursing the existence of the internet and its presence in their children’s lives while getting very drunk. “Kind of the opposite of letting it die on it’s own so as to not attract attention.” 

“Look, _I_ didn’t do anything about it,” Dan says, face tight. “I just didn’t stop Tommy from doing something about it?”

“Dan.” Emily puts down the cups to put her hands on her hips. He looks up, slightly guilty. “You’re supposed to mediate his tendency to pick fights with the media.”

Dan shrugs. “I know it still exists and the internet is forever, okay? But it’s gone for now at least.” Emily sighs in acceptance and they’ve finished setting the table before either of them speaks again. Dan’s voice is quiet when he says, “I’m just still not sure I did the right thing, dragging him into all of this.” 

Not this again. Dan’s been stressed about the impact of their spotlight on Wally since they first started talking about doing the charity concert. “Come here,” Emily says, leading him over to the railing overlooking the go-kart track. “I’ve told you this so many times, but we can do it once more.” 

“Emily.”

“Look at him,” Emily says. Wally’s sitting in front of Lovett in the go-kart he’d jumped ship to when his dad wouldn’t drive fast enough. They’re pulling over to the side of the track, followed by Riley and Hanna in their own kart. As they watch, the kids jump out of the karts almost before they’ve stopped, racing off to the arcade games. There was some mention of a skeeball bet earlier. “Do you think he’d trade that away to not have a couple invasive things pop up online?” 

Dan’s quiet for a long time, eyes definitely on the way Lovett picks up the pace when twin calls of _Uncle Lovett!_ echo across the park. Emily’s half watching Dan, half watching Hanna laugh at all three boys’ eagerness. “No, he wouldn’t,” he says finally. “Neither would I, I don’t think.”

“How about Kenzie?” Emily asks softly. Kenz is still on the track, racing her kart at a frankly horrifying speed around the bends. She’s been racing Tommy all morning. Jon, always a nervous driver, had refused his own kart and is pressed tightly behind Tommy, still looking miserable. “I was always so worried about her,” Emily reflects. “Worried about the fact that there were photos of her all over the internet, worried about touring ruining her childhood, worried she’d end up so spoiled, _thanks Tommy_.” 

“Yeah you were helpless against that one,” Dan laughs. Tommy’s passion for spoiling all three of their kids is never-fucking-ending. 

“Don’t pretend you’re innocent on that front,” she accuses him and Dan just shrugs. “But look at her. All she wanted for her seventeenth birthday was something fun everyone could do together and to get to stay up past her bedtime. I don’t know how, but she turned out pretty okay. Wally will too.”

“Some of that might have been that she had a pretty good mom looking out for her,” Dan says, bumping her hip lightly. “Two, in fact.” 

Emily smiles at him. “And four very good uncles.”

 _This is one of those moments_ , she thinks, as they stand side by side watching their family. This is a moment that she wishes she could photograph and send back in time to the scared twenty-four-year-old who found out she was pregnant three weeks after deciding to call it quits with her college boyfriend. _See? It’s all going to be okay. It’s all going to be great. Just keep going_.

 

***

 

“Okay so we’ve got to put it in the encore I think?” Jon says. The four of them and Tanya are eating lunch and trying to figure out how to restructure their setlist mid tour. 

Tommy looks thoughtful, but Jon sees the mask crack a second before he says it and grimaces preemptively. “Should we be ridiculous divas and restart the song six times a night?” 

“It was three!” Jon protests. Tommy and Dan just laugh at him. “People liked it! Tanya back me up!” 

“Jon, honey, people liked it when you sang the ABCs,” Tanya says condescendingly. Tommy and Dan laugh harder. Tommy genuinely looks like he’s going to fall off of his chair. 

“None of you have the pulse of the people,” Jon retorts, returning to his lunch while they keep laughing. 

"I mean honestly it was gimmicky as hell, but it worked," Lovett says casually. Jon stares at him, a forkful of salad held halfway to his mouth. He can practically see the wheels in Lovett’s head spinning. He didn’t mean to say that. How does he know that? 

"How...?" Jon asks, not sure how to finish the question. 

Lovett ducks his head away from Jon’s stare. "Might've... might've gone to your show at Radio City."

"Lovett," Jon breathes. He…

"It was a slow night, I didn't have a better option." No one points out that the tour in question sold out months in advance, but Jon can already tell he’s going to be thinking about it for days, months, years. Lovett- Lovett came to his show. Planned ahead and bought a ticket and carved out time. Trekked to Midtown, risked all the fans and the tourists and the paparazzi.

For Jon’s show. Jon, who Lovett hated and never wanted to see again. Jon, who Lovett spent twenty minutes yesterday winding up about Indian food. Jon, who’s currently wearing a shirt Lovett picked out in the Munich airport. Jon… who Lovett maybe doesn’t hate so much at all. 

The silence must be awkward for people who aren’t mentally reorganizing the past twelve years because Lovett says, too bright, "Anyway Tommy pass the salt and can we talk about your atrocious overuse of slant rhyme?"

 


	8. This time I'm ready to run, wherever you are is the place I belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're going to figure this out. All of us, together.

The end of the tour arrives without warning. Jon feels like he’s been waiting for this last stop forever, but it also feels like the tour has gone by so quickly. Four months, blurred into an indistinguishable mess of emotions. Three days from now, he’s going to be in Tommy’s bed in LA, his last album hanging over his head, watching Kenz apply for colleges. Hopefully skyping Dan more often than he has been the past couple years. And Lovett... who even knows. Maybe they’ll never speak again.

The second to last night of the tour, everyone ends up in Jon and Tommy’s hotel room after the show. That alone is evidence of how far they’ve come, Jon realizes, looking at Lovett and Dan comfortably pressed together on a couch, Tommy perched on the arm looking at whatever Lovett’s got pulled up on his phone. Emily had climbed into Hanna’s lap when she came in after tucking the boys into bed in their room next door, Tanya squished between the two of them and Jon. Kenz has claimed the armchair like a throne. 

The night flies by in drinks and laughter and nostalgia. 

“Still can’t believe you almost fell off the stage tonight Lovett,” Tommy says affectionately.

“Okay I did _not_ ,” Lovett protests. “I was perfectly in control.” That’s a flat out lie. Jon had reached out and caught the back of his shirt on instinct. “I have definitely never fallen off a stage during soundcheck and broken my wrist either.”  

“It wasn’t broken,” Dan mumbles, barely audible under the sound of their collective laughter. “Also I was nineteen and hungover, what’s your excuse?” 

Before Lovett can respond to that, Tanya cuts in, “Oh you know what I found the other day?” She’s clicking rapidly through her phone. Jon leans toward her to look over her shoulder and she absently elbows him away, nodding up to the TV on the wall that she’s somehow projecting her phone onto. 

“How…?” Jon asks.

“Technology, hon,” Tanya says dismissively. “But look, I found the email with the cut footage from the documentary.” 

It’s, as always, bizarre to look at their teenage selves reflected back at them, the sound of their younger voices overlaid with commentary from around the room. Dan twirling a two-year-old Kenz; Emily chasing Lovett around a dressing room with a comb; Hanna turning Tommy to check out one of his outfits; Jon with Tommy’s guitar in his lap, leaning forward to yell across the room; Lovett on Jon’s back, piggybacking across the stage. 

“I can give you the exclusive backstage tour,” Tommy’s teenage voice echoes from the TV. “Oh no,” Tommy groans, as he appears on the screen with the fan he’d brought backstage.

“Who would have believed,” Jon says affectionately, “that the slutty teenager you see there would mature into the horny for commitment man before us today.” Tommy giggles at him adoringly, but Lovett’s  eyes go really dark.

"Like you weren't allergic to feelings," Lovett says. It might be meant to be a joke but it doesn't sound like one. There’s a sharp intake of breath from someone, but Jon doesn’t bother to figure out who it is, suddenly transported back in time to that other hotel room, the same flat look in Lovett’s eyes.  
  
He recognizes dimly that he’s been waiting for this for twelve years. A sick part of him is grateful for the excuse to let it out. "I think that was you." Jon says coldly. 

“Oh that’s rich!” Lovett says, sharp. “You know, just because you can’t be bothered to pay attention to anyone else’s feelings doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Guys,” Dan says quietly, nervously, but they’re in this now. 

“How am I supposed to pay attention to what you won’t let me see?” Jon asks. Lovett is so fucking closed off, he always has been. How dare he blame Jon for not having the magic ability to break through all the walls. God knows he’d tried. 

“Well god forbid the world doesn’t revolve around you, Jon,” Lovett answers, his voice almost calm again. How does he do that. “Sorry that everyone’s not always pleased with the happy shiny golden boy.”

“Trust me Lovett, I’m very aware that everyone isn’t always pleased with me. Starting with you.” 

“Yeah poor fucking you Jon.” Lovett’s eyes are red and flashing but his voice is quiet. “I’m so sorry that you’ve had this massive success and dated all these models and get to decide whenever you want to settle down and play house with Tommy.” 

That harsh breath is Tommy’s.

“And whose fault is that?” Jon snaps, pushing to his feet in some primal need to reclaim the high ground. There’s a direct line to his solo career from one action and Lovett can’t just play dumb.

“You were right, you know. I bet you’re happy about that,” Lovett says nonsensically. “I couldn’t fucking do it.”

“You left!” Jon yells, the words bursting out of him with the force of all the tears and heartache of twelve years. 

Lovett’s mouth is moving, but Jon can’t hear what he’s saying. 

Jon feels consumed by the hole in his chest that’s been ripped back open. Some corner of his brain registers Tommy’s aborted movement, like he’s not sure who to reach for.

“You fucking left, Lovett. No explanation, no apology, no _nothing_ for twelve fucking years. How is any of this my fault?”  

Lovett’s just staring at him now, eyes wide and red and wet, motionless. 

“You just fucking ran away. You didn’t even know what you were doing, that much was fucking obvious from that goddamn album. Like if you were tired of me you could have just said so. You didn’t need to blow everything up for all of us and-” 

“No,” Lovett interrupts. “No,” he repeats, standing up with a jerky unnatural movement. He looks like he’s going to say something more, but he just shakes his head. He turns away from Jon and flees the room, door slamming behind him.

When Jon forces himself to look away from the door, he’s met with a row of horrified faces. It's Tommy who slowly pushes off the couch, carefully walks up to Jon, takes him by the shoulders, and stares at him head on.  

"Go. Fix. That," Tommy says. His voice is calm and slow and controlled, but his eyes are flashing and he shakes Jon a little with each word.

Jon doesn't move for a second, _can’t_ move for a second, until Tommy shakes him again. He walks out the door on autopilot, realizing when he hits the hallway carpeting that he’s not wearing shoes. The sound of the door slamming behind him wakes him up, kickstarts his brain.  

Lovett’s words, the words he hadn’t heard in the heat of the argument, echo in his head, the only thing he can hear. 

 _You left!_ -

“Because I love you too much to let you leave _me_.” Lovett had sobbed.  

Jon starts to run.

 

***

 

_Jon wakes up first and it takes him a minute to figure out what’s off. He’s in an indistinguishable hotel room. He’s comfortably warm under the weight of the blankets and the body intertwined with his own. That body belongs to Lovett._

_Lovett is in his bed._  

 _Objectively, Lovett looks ridiculous when he’s asleep. They’ve teased him about it for years, there’s a whole series of photos of him asleep in absurd places and positions on tour. His mouth always falls open, his hair becomes eight times more rumpled the second he’s unconscious, his limbs always end up contorted at inhuman angles._  

 _Right now his knee is pressing into Jon’s stomach, one hand loosely gripping his ankle, the other pillowed under his head. He looks like a disaster. He’s the most beautiful thing Jon’s ever seen._  

 _Last night still feels unreal, Jon’s memories covered with a hazy glow of unbelievable happiness. He feels like he could float away if Lovett’s leg wasn’t pinning him to the bed._  

 _Jon still can’t believe he did it. They’d been up late after the show recording for the next album. He didn’t think it through, running on caffeine and adrenaline and four years of wanting._  

 _During his solo, Lovett had been clowning around, leaning into Jon’s space, making over the top doe eyes. When he’d finished the line on “kiss me,” Jon, slap happy, had leaned in to dramatically kiss his nose._  

 _He missed._  

 _Just as Jon processed what he’d done, as he realized how soft Lovett’s lips were, as his brain caught up and started yelling “pull back”, Lovett- Lovett kissed him back._  

 _It’s a line so cheesy that Dan would give him a thirty minute lecture if he tried to put it in a song, but it’s true. The entire world disappeared as Lovett pressed into him and Jon’s hands moved of their own accord to hold Lovett’s head. Jon was completely and utterly lost in the feel of Lovett’s mouth opening under his lips, the roughness of his curls against Jon’s fingers, the soft sounds of Lovett’s breath._  

 _Then Tommy cleared his throat behind them and the world came crashing back into focus. They were, in fact, in a hotel room turned makeshift recording studio with Tommy and Dan and the sound guys. They did, in fact, have to finish recording._  

 _When they finished for the night, Lovett kept giving him sidelong glances as they packed up. Jon finally grabbed his hand and tugged him back to his room, ignoring Tommy’s soft “finally,” in favor of kissing Lovett again in the hallway._  

_The blaring sound of Lovett’s phone breaks into Jon’s thoughts. Lovett shoots up from the tangled mess of bodies and blankets to grab for it on the nightstand. Jon stays where he is, watching the line of Lovett’s back as his shoulder muscles ripple._

_“Fuck!” Lovett yelps, turning back towards Jon to give him an accusatory look. “We’re gonna be late, we have a fucking flight.” Right, they hadn’t actually set alarms, that must have been Lovett’s backup._

_“We’ll be fine,” Jon tells him. They probably won’t, he has no idea what time it is and normally he’d be the one freaking out about it. Flying is nerve wracking enough without worrying about getting to the airport in time, without Tanya snapping at them for running late. Right now though, the plane can go fuck itself, the whole world can go fuck itself. Lovett’s in his bed, looking at him with fond annoyance, hair sticking up everywhere, sun lighting him from behind through the window._

_Lovett shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it before jumping to his feet and looking around manically. “We have to be downstairs in three minutes, get up Jon!” He leans down to pick up his own pants and the shirt Jon was wearing yesterday, tugging them on, haphazard. Jon’s heart aches, it’s so full._

_“Hey,” Jon says as Lovett sits on the edge of the bed to tug on shoes._

_“Yeah?” Lovett replies absently. “Seriously, you should move.”_  

 _“That was… we’re good, right?” Jon fumbles, not sure how to phrase what he’s asking. He’s been, he’s loved Lovett forever. And Lovett has his thing with Tommy and he had the thing with that sound guy and there’s been others. Jon has his things too, maybe neither of them has any right to expect anything from this. But he wants-_  

 _“Yes Jon, your ego can rest confidently with regard to your sexual prowess,” Lovett says lightly. He squeezes Jon’s foot and turns towards the door. “Tanya’s gonna kill you. I’ve gotta go pack up my shit.” Lovett crosses the room quickly, but pauses with his hand on the door handle._  

_“Yeah, okay.” Jon pushes himself to his elbows reluctantly. That’s not what he was asking._

_“Jon?” Lovett turns over his shoulder to look at him, even as he opens the door. His face is considering, careful, but there’s a small, genuine smile on his lips. “We’re good. That was good. We could… do that again sometime.” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he steps into the hallway._  

_“Yeah,” Jon says anyway, grinning stupidly at the door. “Yes.”_

 

***

 

Lovett's on the roof of the hotel when Jon finally finds him. The rush of relief at locating him is promptly replaced by fierce terror because Lovett is _really close_ to that edge.

"Lovett!" Jon yells, panicked. He closes the distance between them rapidly. Lovett turns to look at him as he approaches, eyes red, shoulders shaking.

"Oh you haven't had enough?" Lovett asks bitterly. "Cause I definitely have."  

Lovett turns quickly, jerkily, like he’s going to walk away. Jon grabs his arm before he can take a step. It’s half that fierce dark fear that Lovett will trip over the edge or... and it’s half the desperate desire to keep him, to tell him, to hold him. Lovett doesn’t pull away.

"Lovett." Jon says, as gently as he can manage. He feels like he’s shaking out of his skin, _I love you too much, I love you, because I love you_ bouncing off his brain in a demonic rhythm.  "Lovett. You, you loved me?"

"God. I'm sorry I retroactively fucked up the casual bandmates hookup code by introducing feelings,” Lovett snaps. His voice is harsh, but that’s not anger. It’s fear.  “Can I go now?"

"No." Jon says, keeping his voice even.  "No you can't. Not until you listen."

Jon takes a couple steps away from the edge, towing Lovett with him by the arm he’s still gripping tightly. Lovett still doesn’t pull away. Jon’s other hand comes up in the air without his intent, unconsciously reaching to stroke Lovett’s face. He forcibly wills it back down to his side, staring directly at Lovett. 

"Lovett, it wasn't. It wasn't a casual hookup to me. It never fucking was,” Jon says.

Lovett’s head jerks up and he finally looks into Jon’s eyes. He looks scared as hell. Jon wants nothing more than to wipe that fear away, if Lovett still…

Jon’s sure of what he has to say. Scared still, but certain. "I loved you too," he says intently. "Scratch that, I love you, then and now."

"You don't know me now," Lovett says, automatic. His face is blank. _Processing_ , Jon thinks.

"Sure I do,” Jon says confidently. He doesn’t know where he got this clarity, but he’s not about to waste it. “I've spent more time with you on this tour than I had when I realized I was in love with you, the first time you managed to make Dan laugh with a stupid impression."

Lovett gapes at him. "Two weeks?"

"Two weeks."Jon says with certainty, smiling a bit at the memory. It was earth shaking, then. It’s earth shaking now, but he’s not going to, he _can’t_ , wait four years to do something this time. "Two weeks. And the rest of our lives if you'd just _let_ me."

This time Jon does reach for his face. Lovett lets him, lets him settle his hand on Lovett's cheek, lets him pull him closer with the hand on his arm, lets him lean in until their lips are only separated by the tiniest margin. 

Then Lovett goes stiff. "Tommy," he says flatly. 

Jon pauses. Then he thinks about Tommy yelling _I love you both!_ ; thinks about Tommy saying _what if he still loves you_ and _Dan loves you_ and _I don't care how, I don't care when_. He knows what Tommy wants. Tommy wants everything, all of them.

He grins down at Lovett. “Do you love him?" Jon asks.

"I... always,” Lovett says, timid but certain.

"And Dan?" Jon presses. That one’s more of a gamble but he thinks...

Lovett looks helpless, overwhelmed, when he cries, "yes!"

"And me, you love me?" Jon’s heart is soaring.

"Jon," Lovett says desperately. "Yes yes yes."

"Okay then.” Jon’s cheeks hurt, he’s smiling so wide. “We're going to figure this out. All of us, together," he promises. He tilts Lovett's face up and brings his head down until their lips meet and the entire world disappears.

 

***

 

For all that he’d been confident in ordering Jon to go after Lovett, Tommy feels completely at a loss once the door closes. Looking around the room, he can tell he’s far from alone. 

The TV is still playing scenes from another life, nineteen-year-old Jon cheesing for the camera. Like she’s reading his mind, Tanya looks from Tommy to the TV and then taps her phone to shut it off. The ensuing silence hangs, heavy. 

Here they are again; left in the wake of the JonandLovett tornado. They’re all older, but apparently no wiser. At least tonight, Jon wasn’t unresponsive to Tommy for a half hour before breaking into sobs. At least Dan didn’t have to chase Lovett down and get into their own massive blow up. Maybe Tommy won’t have to hold a wrecked Jon, praying that he doesn’t shake apart. Maybe they won’t not speak for years.

A desperate sob breaks the silence after what feels like forever, but is probably only a few minutes. Fuck. Kenzie. Tommy had completely forgotten she was in the room, watching all of that. There’s another thing that’s different. She’s not a five-year-old woken up by screaming. She’s a terrified teenager who can definitely comprehend what’s going on. 

One thing that’s the same is the borderline supernatural pull Tommy feels to Kenz when she’s upset. He crosses the floor to pull her out of the armchair and into his arms in seconds. “Hey, hey Kenz,” Tommy murmurs into her hair as she clings to him. She’s crying freely now, tears dampening his shirt, her breath coming out in gasps. “It’s okay Kenz, it’s going to be okay, I promise.” 

“I- I- Is Uncle Jon gonna _leave_?” she chokes out. Tommy’s hands still where they’re stroking her hair and back. Right to the heart of it then. He squeezes her a little tighter.

“No honey no,” Tommy says. His throat feels thick. “I don’t think so.” She stays nestled into him and he breathes slow and careful, trying to calm them both down. 

When Kenz has almost stopped crying, Hanna’s hand lands on Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes. “Kenz sweetie, let's go to our room okay?”

“No,” Kenz protests, clinging to Tommy. “I want to-“

“Sweetie, go on with your moms,” Tommy says, reaching to disentangle her arms from his waist and kissing her forehead gently. Hanna wraps an arm around her and leads her towards the door. When Tommy turns, he can see Em saying something to Dan quietly before following them. Tanya taps him on the head with a wry smile and leaves too. 

Dan’s looking at him consideringly. Tommy can’t quite read his face, but he can tell when Dan bites his lip and pushes up off the couch that it’s not quite what he wants. “Dan,” Tommy says softly. Dan looks at him, patient, waiting. “Stay?” 

“Of course.” Dan’s voice is quiet too. His face is still creased with worry, but that’s a smile. Tommy crosses the room to grab two more beers out of the case on the desk and sits on the edge of the bed. Dan stares at him for a minute before sitting down next to him, knees brushing. 

They sit in companionable silence for a bit, throwing each other worried looks in between watching the door like staring at it will force it to open. Finally, Dan asks, “You okay?” 

“No,” Tommy says simply, surprised at how easy it slips out. “No, I’m not.” 

Part of him can’t believe that he’s sitting here calmly drinking when his brain is whirring so fast. This is it. This, tonight, is going to be the moment of truth. Jon’s going to fix it or he’s not. Tommy’s going to lose Jon - to Lovett or to the crumbling of their carefully reconstructed bonds - or he’s not. They’re all going to work this out together or they’re not. 

No matter what happens with Jon and Lovett, Tommy realizes, he can’t hold onto this anymore. Cards on the fucking table. He turns to meet Dan’s eyes. “I don't know what's happening out there, but I know what I want, right here and right now." 

Dan sucks in a breath and holds it, but his eyes light up with something that looks a lot like hope. Tommy smiles at him, despite his racing heart. This is easy. This is Dan. Dan is safe, Dan is home, Dan’s his rock. Dan is almost certainly a sure bet. 

“I don’t- I don’t know how this works, I don’t know what we do,” Tommy says slowly. “But I do know that I love all of you. You and Jon and Lovett.” 

“Yeah, I- I do too,” Dan says in a rush. He looks so so nervous, but that light is still in his eyes. “Maybe more than I should.” 

“No,” Tommy says immediately. Dan and his fucking insecurities.  “You’re not too much Dan. It’s not too much.” 

Dan rolls his eyes affectionately and disbelievingly. But he admits, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I have, ahh, some ideas, but, I- I never thought this could happen" 

"You think too little of yourself,” Tommy reiterates. Before Dan can get awkward again he continues, “Do you think it could work? All of us, together?” 

“I dunno. I really don’t,” Dan says. “I just- I want it to. If everyone was on board.” 

“I want it too,” Tommy says. “For so long, I-” Emotions are a lot right now. Logistics. Logistics are clearer. “I’ve like, done some reading,” he ventures. 

Dan visibly relaxes, just a little bit but- “I have too,” he says hesitantly. Tommy tries to look encouraging. “I know that like, communication is key. We haven’t been great at that, we’d have to work on it. And like, making everyone feel equal is important, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy agrees. This is all super speculative. Jon and Lovett could be killing each other right now or they could be fucking or anything in between. And they could want Dan or Tommy or they could not, either way. But talking through options calms them both. “I think we could do it. Might take some practice but,” 

“We could. If they, if Jon and Lovett want-“ Dan looks so uncertain. Tommy is nervous but this is different. 

Tommy has a lot more cards than Dan does. He knows, he _does_ , that Jon loves him and wants him. He knows the voice in his head whispering that Jon will leave him for Lovett is mostly full of shit. Everyone but Lovett has known that Jon loves Lovett since they were seventeen. And he knows, though Jon won’t say it, that Jon loves Dan too, in ways even Jon doesn’t understand.

Tommy knows Dan loves him, he’s known that for a while in that quiet tucked away piece of his heart full of late night conversations and days holding each other tight. Thanks to those conversations he knows Dan has loved the other two for as long as he has, recognized it for longer. And now he knows Dan is in, for whatever they can have.

And Lovett, none of them fucking know. But Tommy knows, somehow, that Lovett loves him in some way because Lovett _came_ , Lovett’s _here,_ on Tommy’s word and Tommy’s promise of himself. Even if he didn’t hear that promise for the declaration it was, he _cares_. He loves Jon. They all know that. And there’s something in the way he looks at Dan, looks up to Dan, always has. 

Dan doesn’t. Dan doesn’t know any of that, Tommy thinks. Hopefully he has an idea but he thinks so little of himself, he probably hasn’t seen the way they look at him, the way they love him. He knows he’s got Tommy, hopefully, after all this. He’s so- god he’s so brave, so good, telling Tommy things he doesn't think will ever happen, even now. Thinking Jon and Lovett might not want him, _how could they not?_

“No matter what, we’re not losing each other, yeah?” Tommy says, rough. Dan nods, jerkily. This, Tommy can promise. “Not after all this, Dan. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“You too Tommy,” Dan says. “You’ve always been- you’re so important to me, in whatever way.” 

Tommy loves him so much. “I love you so much,” he promises. Dan’s smile splits his face and suddenly the press of their knees and the brush of their hands against each other isn’t enough contact. Tommy reaches out, slow and careful to pull Dan close, arms tight and tense around his back.

“I love you too,” Dan murmurs into his shoulder, his arms steady and sure and safe. They’re still wrapped around each other when the door finally opens five minutes later. 

Tommy knows the second he sees Jon’s face. 

He can feel the grin taking over his face as Jon tugs Lovett into the room and leads him over to stand in front of Dan and Tommy.  Dan twists away from Tommy’s chest to face them, leaving an arm around Tommy’s back. Tommy looks at Jon expectantly and Jon takes a deep breath.

"Tommy," Jon says, eyes dancing even as his face is tight.

"Yes Jon?" Tommy says, fake innocent.

"I love you.” His heart leaps the same now as it did the first time he heard those words from Jon’s lips, two years and a million kisses ago.

Tommy didn’t know he could smile wider than he is, but apparently anything is possible tonight. "I love you too."

Lovett shifts from one foot to the other as Jon turns and says, "Dan. I love you." 

Dan flushes a little but grins, "Yeah, same." Tommy squeezes his shoulder. _See?_

"Good night John boy." Lovett intones. Tommy cracks up helplessly.  

Jon shoots Tommy a glare that says _traitor_ , but turns, undeterred. "Hey Lovett, I love you." 

Lovett rolls his eyes at him performatively. “We've established that," he mutters. Tommy can’t wait to hear what that conversation was like, his two clueless idiots in love. Jon just stares at Lovett intently until he says, "Fine, yes, I love you too."

Jon’s glowing with happiness as he looks between them. He locks eyes with Tommy, lifting an eyebrow: _yes?_ Tommy nods firmly. _Hell yes_. "So can we... can we make this work?" Jon asks.

It's Dan who jumps up from the bed to kiss Jon, all the patience of the years of waiting turning to passion in the kiss. Jon’s arms slide around him, one hand moving up and down his back, the other palming the short hair at the base of his neck.  

Tommy tilts his head to look at Lovett and reaches for his hand. Lovett crumples onto the bed, half in Tommy's lap, easy as anything. "Hey,” Tommy says, when Lovett’s hands find his cheeks. “Love you."

"Not this again." Lovett grumbles, but he pulls their faces apart ten seconds later. "Me too, I.. you... always, Tommy." Tommy can’t believe he’s still on the ground, he feels so light.

When Tommy comes up for air a few minutes later, Jon and Dan are both looking down at them, faces unbearably fond. Tommy’s face must do a thing, cause Jon stumbles towards him, dropping onto the knee that Lovett’s not leaning on. Tommy wraps an arm around him to steady him. Jon stares at him, delighted and Tommy has to kiss him.

“Good job,” Tommy whispers. It took him long enough, but he got there in the end. Jon glows with the praise and kisses Tommy’s temple soft and light.

On his other side, Lovett twists towards Dan. Tommy feels his body shake as Lovett makes grabby hands until Dan tentatively sits next to him on the bed. Lovett, characteristic confidence mostly restored, reaches out to rest his hand on Dan’s neck. Tommy knows Jon’s watching this just as intently as he is. 

“Hey,” Lovett says. Dan looks at him, tentative but hopeful. Lovett giggles at himself, no doubt making another Waltons’ joke in his head. “Hey Dan, I love you.”

Dan gasps, disbelieving. He nods, wordless and breathless. Lovett, bless him, takes the hint and tips off Tommy’s knee to crash into Dan. Tommy is never going to stop smiling, he realizes. He reaches the arm that’s not holding Jon around Lovett to find Dan’s hand. Dan squeezes his hand so hard it would hurt, if it wasn’t the best feeling in the world. 

Tommy thinks he could stay like this forever, tangled together companionably on the bed, watching Dan and Lovett kiss, Jon pressed against him. After a few minutes though, Lovett pulls back and turns towards Tommy. “Um, not to be presumptuous but…” Lovett says, the look in his eyes familiar even though Tommy hasn’t seen it in thirteen years. _Try this with me?_ “It’s been a really long time.”

“Get over here,” Tommy says fondly. Lovett leans in to kiss him and Tommy whispers, just for him, the old refrain, “Want to try a foursome with me?”

Lovett giggles, high and light and free. Then he reaches down for Tommy’s belt. Tommy can’t contain his gasp which makes Lovett grin as he slides to his knees between Tommy’s legs. Even though it’s been a while it’s easy and natural to spread his legs, to lift his hips so Lovett can tug his jeans and boxers down, to thread his hands into Lovett’s curls, to not even bother holding in the, “oh god,” when Lovett swallows him down, easy. 

The bed shakes as Jon, dislodged by Lovett’s repositioning, crawls behind Tommy to wrap his arms around Dan. Tommy reaches for Dan’s knee to squeeze, watching Jon kissing at Dan’s ear and cheek, Jon’s hands sliding under Dan’s shirt to tug it off, both their eyes on Lovett’s hands and mouth around Tommy. 

Lovett’s showing off a bit, teasingly pulling on and off. “Fuck,” Dan mutters, when Lovett’s tongue comes out, licking all the way up. Tommy clenches both the hand on Dan’s knee and the hand in Lovett’s hair. 

“Hey, hey, Lovett, stop,” Tommy gasps. They’re no longer teenagers and he wants to get the other two involved here. Tommy tugs at Lovett’s curls, pulls him off and up. Lovett bends to kiss him, wet and messy. “God you’re good at that.” 

Jon whines behind him and Tommy tilts his head, sliding out of the way so that Jon can take his spot. Tommy kicks his legs out of his jeans and leans back against the headboard as Jon’s hands find Lovett’s hips, tugging him until Lovett topples down onto the bed on top of Jon. Jon’s hands are roving and desperate and uncoordinated as Lovett kisses him. “Too many clothes,” Jon gasps. 

Dan reaches out to slide a hand under Lovett's shirt, pulling it over his head. Lovett, distracted now, turns to reach for Dan’s waistband. Lovett is pressing down onto Jon’s hips in a way that doesn’t look particularly comfortable, though Jon is still just panting out desperate breaths. 

“You’re hot,” Dan murmurs, stroking a hand across Lovett’s newly bare chest. Lovett flushes as Dan leans in to kiss him, awkwardly fumbling at Dan’s pants. He’s not getting very far, his hand at an awkward angle. 

Jon whines again, because he's needy and selfish and no one’s paying him attention. “Desperate,” Lovett says, affectionate.

“Typical,” Tommy laughs, reaching over to pinch his hip. Jon pouts with another whine, already fucking nonverbal, just from some kissing and Lovett’s hips against his. “So easy.” 

Dan plants a final kiss on the corner of Lovett's mouth and pushes him back towards Jon. Lovett goes easily, leaning back down to keep kissing Jon. “Come here Dan,” Tommy says. Dan obeys, shedding the pants that had given Lovett so much trouble as he stands up and walks over to Tommy, climbing on top of him. “Hey you.” 

Tommy spreads his legs out so that Dan can climb up on his knees between them. He runs his hands all over Dan’s chest and back and thighs, exploratory and reverent while Dan tugs Tommy’s shirt over his head. It’s been so fucking long, but the noise Dan makes when Tommy digs his fingers into the space between his shoulder blades is the same as it was at nineteen. 

They’re distracted by another loud incoherent noise from Jon and Dan twists around, stroking Tommy’s ankle as he reaches out for Jon’s hip. Jon hisses and Dan and Lovett both shoot backwards. “No, no,” Jon says, too quick. His eyes are darting between them, guilty. “So… _close_.”

Tommy laughs at him affectionately. “You’re okay babe.” He reaches out to nudge Dan towards Jon as Lovett ducks back down. Of course Jon is gone just from kissing Lovett. Dan gets a hand between their bodies and Tommy can’t really see, but it looks like he’s mostly touching Jon’s thigh, Jon still _fully clothed_ and gasping and coming.  Tommy palms himself idly, watching as Lovett kisses Jon’s cheek through the aftershocks.  

When Lovett shifts his weight, Jon hisses again. “Sorry, sorry,” Lovett says, rolling off into Dan’s lap. Dan tugs him closer, leaving Jon lying lifelessly at the foot of the bed. 

“Come this way,” Tommy says, pulling his legs up to make room and digging through the bag on the nightstand. Dan grunts in acknowledgement and flips Lovett over to press him into the mattress. 

Lovett squirms around under him. “Get up on your knees,” Lovett says, rough. Lovett holds a hand out to his side expectantly, knowing Tommy’s plan before Tommy’s fully formulated it himself.

Tommy squeezes the lube into Lovett’s hand and then his own as he moves down the bed, grinning at Dan’s muttered, “Fuck” when Lovett’s hand grabs his dick. 

Tommy strokes his free hand over Dan’s shoulders as his fingers dance over Dan’s ass, teasing. “Dan, you want…?” he checks. 

“God yes Tommy,” Dan grits out. Tommy doesn’t wait to be told twice.

Tommy is just easing his second finger in when Dan shudders around him, collapsing forward onto Lovett. Dan makes a beautiful punched out noise as he comes that Tommy’s never heard before.

“Oof,” Lovett grumbles. Tommy plants a kiss on the base of Dan’s spine before moving up to help Lovett tug at his shoulders until Dan rolls off, loose and boneless.

When Tommy looks up to check, Jon’s finally coherent enough to have taken his sticky clothes off. Jon smiles as he scoots up the bed to curl around Dan’s side. Tommy returns the grin and then pulls Lovett on top of him.

“Hi,” Tommy says brightly as Lovett settles in his lap. Lovett chuckles at him, even as he ducks his head to kiss him, sloppy.

“Hi!” Lovett giggles. “Rousing success yeah?” Tommy rolls his eyes and reaches for Lovett’s dick, Lovett’s hand coming to rest on top of his as Tommy rolls his hips up into the hollow between Lovett’s thighs. 

They’re not particularly coordinated as they grind together, kissing lazy and sloppy between giggles. “We’re not bad at this, no,” Tommy agrees, gasping a little as Lovett shifts up on his knees and back down again. “Maybe next time, we’ll level up to actual…” Lovett comes over both their wrists, mouth open against Tommy’s chin. “Fucking,” Tommy finishes. 

“Shut. Up,” Lovett says hypocritically, pushing his hips down punishingly. Someone’s hand lands on Tommy’s thigh and squeezes. Tommy pushes his hips up a couple more times and then he's coming too, Lovett pressed close against his chest.

When Lovett rolls off to his side, Dan pulls Lovett into his chest. Tommy twists to curl up on the other side of Lovett, flinging an arm over them until Jon’s familiar fingers link with his. 

They’d probably stay in that sweaty happy heap forever if Lovett didn’t shoot up between them. “Shower,” he says imperiously. 

This hotel is nice and the bathroom is big, but it’s definitely not big enough for four grown men to shower together. That doesn’t mean they don’t, no one willing to lose contact for even a minute, slipping and touching and kissing. 

They stumble out, warm and damp and collapse back on the bed. Tommy breaks away to grab his phone and text Emily so she knows no one’s dead. He can’t muster the words, listening to Lovett bitch, “no Jon I don’t want to be smushed,” so he just sends a smiley emoji. They can explain in the morning. 

When he drops his phone and makes his way to the bed, Jon and Lovett have finished their negotiation, Lovett’s on the outside edge, holding Jon’s hand. Dan is sitting on the other edge. Tommy shoves at him a little to push him in and Dan shakes his head. “Nah, come here.” Dan pulls Tommy down so he’s squished comfortably between Dan and Jon, knowing what Tommy wants, just like always.

Tommy doesn’t think he’s going to be able to sleep. He’s so fucking happy, cuddled here between his boys. He’s wanted this for so long. Now that he has it, he can actually take in how much _better_ it is than he even imagined it. Jon and Lovett pass out almost immediately, but Tommy and Dan whisper to each other for a while, until Tommy trails off mid sentence, asleep before he realizes his eyes are closing.

 

***

 

When Tommy wakes up in the morning, it takes him a second to place where he is. His head is pillowed on Jon’s chest like it’s any other morning but there’s a warmth at his back and- Dan’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing back when he touches it. Tommy turns careful and slow to see Dan’s eyes sparkling at him. 

“Good morning,” Dan whispers. Tommy leans forwards to kiss him, because he _can_. Dan deepens the kiss, arms sliding down Tommy’s back. Tommy jumps a little when Dan’s hands reach his ass, suggestive. “We could…” Dan suggests. “We don’t have to.”

“You’re an idiot,” Tommy whispers against his lips. “Yes. Lube’s behind you.” Dan groans into his mouth before pulling away to reach blindly.

They’re half waiting for the others to wake up. Dan lazily fingers Tommy open in between kisses while Jon slowly comes alive next to them. “ _Good_ morning,” Jon says finally.  

Tommy squirms away a little so he can twist and kiss Jon good morning, whispering against his cheek, “okay?” Jon looks like he’s torn between laughing at him and jumping him as he smiles and nods emphatically.

Dan rolls them in a smooth motion so that he’s on top of Tommy. There’s a shuffling sound next to them that might be Lovett waking up, Tommy can’t focus enough to tell. “Morning,” Dan murmurs at the same time as he slides into Tommy, confirming it.

Lovett says, awed, “I can’t decide if I want to watch or blow you.” 

“I think I have a solution,” Jon says, in his never successful attempt at a seductive voice. 

There’s the sound of movement and then Lovett gasping, “Yeah, yeah that works.” 

“Jon’s blowing Lovett,” Dan narrates, as if he can tell that even if Tommy could turn his head, could look away from Dan, his vision is blurring at the edges as Dan fucks him. “Lovett’s watching you, and god you’re gorgeous.”

Tommy reaches out a hand, blindly, wildy, and Lovett grips it tightly as Tommy comes. Tommy returns to earth as Dan’s coming too, shuddering above him. “Tommy,” Dan gasps, falling forward onto Tommy’s chest. 

He strokes Dan’s hair absently, turning his face to watch Lovett and Jon. Lovett’s still got a death grip on Tommy’s hand, hips arching up into Jon’s mouth. Tommy suddenly needs to be touching more of Lovett, so he maneuvers himself out from under Dan,  his body feeling weighed down by happiness, to kiss Lovett, tangle a hand in his hair, and half heartedly play with his nipples as he’s on the edge.

“Jon I’m gonna,” Lovett moans and Jon only takes him deeper as Lovett cries out into Tommy’s neck. Tommy tugs Lovett close to watch Dan move towards Jon, kissing him as he pulls off Lovett’s dick. It’s objectively very gross. There’s so much morning breath and germ trading going on here but Tommy has never been more into anything in his life.

Three sets of hands are reaching for Jon with varying levels of competence, but Jon just shakes his head. He presses his face to Dan’s shoulder and jerks himself twice before he’s coming across Dan’s chest and his own. 

Someone’s phone chirps while they’re all cuddled in a sticky happy pile and Tommy remembers with sudden clarity the world outside this hotel room. “So what are we going to tell everyone? Wait first, what are we going to do here? We have to like discuss and negotiate how this works, between us all.” 

Lovett groans and shoves at Jon’s shoulder. “Jon can you make your boyfriend shut up with the fancy words?” he grumbles. 

Jon and Tommy make identical little wounded noises. 

Lovett sighs performatively, “Can you make _our_ boyfriend shut up?”

Tommy turns to stare at him, eyes wide. He’s pretty sure Jon and Dan are also staring, with the same awed look on their faces. Lovett’s giving them a ‘so what’ look but his eyes are shining. He just dropped that, _our boyfriend_ , so casual but so sincere and decided.

Tommy is wracking his brain for what he can say that won’t ruin the moment when Lovett shrugs, exaggerated, a questioning look slipping onto his face.

Tommy leans in to kiss him, gentle but firm. “Yes.”

 

***

 

Despite the morning sex and the comedy of errors that is their second attempt to shower without breaking contact, the four of them still make it to breakfast before the girls and the kids. They’re sitting in a booth, Lovett tucked close against Jon’s side; Tommy’s head against Dan’s shoulder while he carefully sips his coffee; all their legs tangled under the table, when Emily and Hanna and the kids walk in. 

Wally and Riley come flying towards them, already full of energy. “Dad! Dad can I have ice cream for breakfast?” 

“No way kiddo,” Dan says automatically.

“But it’s the last dayyyyy,” Wally whines. Shit, it is, Jon had almost forgotten in all of the emotional drama. They’re doing one last show tonight and then they have to take this fragile new thing into their real lives.

“Still no.” Dan squeezes Jon’s shoulder on his way out of the booth to monitor buffet practices. 

Riley taps his foot, impatient now that Wally’s gotten his word in. “Uncle Tommy will you help me make a waffle in the machine?”

Tommy looks at him skeptically. “Did your mom already say no waffles?”

“Yes she did,” Emily calls from behind him. “No waffles until after some kind of protein.” 

Emily doesn’t even pretend not to be staring at them, assessing, as she approaches their table. Hanna, behind her, does a little better job of hiding it, but she’s puzzling them out too. They’re going to be happy, Jon hopes, pleased that they’ve finally worked this out. 

“What if we go get an omelet and then we can talk waffles?” Tommy offers, scooting towards the edge of the booth. Riley looks slightly placated. _God_ , Tommy is so fucking good with the kids, it never ceases to amaze Jon, making his heart twist with want. 

As Tommy walks past the table, he stops to poke Jon’s shoulder. “Hey, you traumatized our niece last night you should go…” He jerks his head in the direction of the door. Kenz is still standing several feet away from the table, her face twisted with worry. She’s staring, hard, at the place where Jon’s chest is pressed against Lovett’s shoulder. 

Jon squeezes Lovett quickly and extracts himself to go to Kenz. “Hey, hey kiddo it’s okay,” he says quietly. Her whole face darkens and she turns to stomp away from him, towards an unoccupied corner of the room. Jon follows her, worried now. “Kenzie, talk to me.”

She whirls around to face him. “Are you leaving Tommy?” she asks. Her voice has a dangerous edge to it. _What?_  

“Oh my god, no, no, Kenz, no!” Jon says immediately, a sharp pain in his chest at the very thought of it. She’s still glaring at him, which… makes sense. Kenz loves them all but the bond she and Tommy have is special. Of course she’s protective if she’s thinking Jon would…

“Kenz,” Jon says slow and careful. He is _not_ prepared to handle this explanation. “We’re all, we’re all going to be together.”  

She glares at him for a second longer, but he can see the moment when it clicks. “Like, you and Tommy and Lovett?” She looks confused, but hopeful. 

“And Dan,” Jon adds. His cheeks feel hot from the flush of happiness. Kenz looks at him suspiciously for a few more seconds before breaking into a grin and hugging him tightly. She’ll have more questions later, he’s sure, and hopefully he can pass those off to Tommy or Lovett. But right now she just needs to know that none of them are going to be heartbroken and that she gets to keep loving them all and that seems to be accomplished. 

“C’mon, let’s go get food.” Jon steers Kenz back towards the buffet with an arm around her shoulder. When they pass the booth, Em is cuddled close to Lovett, both of them talking, too quiet to hear. They look happy. Lovett is glowing.

Jon and Kenz return with plates to Wally and Riley squeezed in between Tommy and Dan, both talking too fast with their mouths full. Lovett’s somehow acquired a waffle piled high with whipped cream and chocolate chips that Riley is eyeing jealously. Jon nudges Kenz into the booth so that she’s nestled between him and Lovett as Hanna and Emily pull up chairs to the outside.

There are only a few other people in the breakfast room, but Jon suspects that the other diners all hate them, loud and messy and taking up so much space. He could not give less of a fuck, too busy smiling at his family to actually eat food. After all the years and all the achievements and all of the shows, it feels like they’ve finally made it home.

  
  
  



	9. Epilogue - If there's something I've learned from a million mistakes, you're the ones that I want at the end of the day

Lovett pauses in the open screen door before walking out onto the deck. Even four years after moving into this house he never gets tired of looking at it, looking at the life they’ve built here. Never gets tired of the fact that this is what he gets to call an ordinary day after thinking for so long that he couldn’t have even a fraction of this happiness.

Dan and Tommy are close together by the grill, moving around each other easily without even really thinking about it, symbiotic. They fit each other perfectly, at the grill as in everything, handing each other tools before the other even thinks to ask. Tommy reaches around Dan to grab a skewer, arm brushing Dan’s back casually. 

Emily and Riley and Wally are throwing a frisbee in the yard, dogs running between their feet. Wally is showing off, throwing it behind his back and through his legs. Of course, that sends the frisbee flying off in the totally wrong direction, bouncing off the treehouse and disappearing to the back of the yard. The boys go racing after it, looking the same at fifteen in the backyard as they did at eight on stages and in stadiums, Emily laughing after them. 

The branches of the tree tap against the treehouse in the breeze. They’d spent the entire summer building it two years ago, the boys “helping” in between games of tag. Jon had hammered his finger three days in, too busy looking at Tommy working shirtless for workplace safety. Lovett had only had to step in to fix the angles of the beams twice, mostly watching from his perch between Jon’s legs on the lawn chair. It would have been so much faster and easier to just pay someone to put it together, but he wouldn’t have traded the satisfied looks on Tommy and Dan’s faces as they stomped around to test it for anything. 

“Lovett!” Tommy calls from the grill and Lovett shakes himself free from reminiscing. “We’d like to eat sometime _today_ I think?”  

“Hold your fucking horses,” Lovett grumbles even as he walks over obligingly. “Disgusting veggie burgers, as ordered.” Riley is on a sudden and unexplained vegetarian kick and they’d been unprepared. “I brought more wine too,” he adds, reaching for Tommy’s glass. 

Dan has stepped back to let Lovett close to the grill, a hand lightly resting on Tommy’s ass where Tommy’s bent over the burgers. He holds out his own glass with his free hand for a refill. “Thank you for your service darling.” It only sounds half sarcastic so Lovett leans in for a kiss before leaving them to their grilling. 

“More wine Hanna?” Lovett asks, leaning over her deck chair. Kenz shakes her own glass at him from where she’s leaning on the edge of the pool and he rolls his eyes at her. “No swimming under the influence.” 

“Hypocrite,” Kenz giggles and Lovett tilts his head in acknowledgement. Tommy makes margaritas that don’t taste like rubbing alcohol and taste even better on a pool float, sue him.

“It’s sangria, not wine, but yes,” Hanna says, tapping his wrist impatiently. Lovett just hands her the pitcher, tired of serving and walks around the chairs to perch by Jon’s hip.   

Jon’s sprawled out on the chair, Izzy asleep on his chest. Jon looks halfway to asleep himself as Lovett leans up to kiss him. “How’s my angel?” Lovett asks, unable, as always, to resist the urge to set a careful hand on their daughter’s back and stroke it slowly.

“Sleeping,” Jon says unhelpfully. 

“How’d she get that way Jon?” Emily asks as she drops onto Hanna’s chair even though there are _eight_ _other chairs_ right there. Apparently she’s tired of waiting for the boys to come back with the frisbee.

Jon growls at her. “Fuck off, she fell asleep right here in my arms.” 

Lovett looks between Jon and Emily, suspicious. “Was there a worry she _wouldn’t_?”  

“Not _today_ ,” Emily says ominously. Lovett glares at her until she giggles. “Last Monday though-”

“Em, please,” Jon whines. Lovett turns to look at him. Jon is flushing, unsuccessfully trying to hide his face in Izzy’s tiny sunhat. _Idiot_.

“Oh do tell,” Lovett says eagerly. Monday night, Dan and Lovett had been in Tennessee to go to Wally’s end of the year concert and bring him back to LA for the summer. Tommy had a meeting to go to in Santa Barbara, leaving Jon alone with Izzy for the first time since they brought her home almost three months ago. He’d been panicked, but had sworn it went perfectly smoothly. Sworn so fervently it was suspicious, in fact. 

“He only called four times to double check bottle temperature and diaper procedure, and sent five pictures of the way she was sleeping to make sure he hadn’t set her down wrong,” Emily says helpfully. Jon’s face gets redder. “Never mind that we haven’t had a baby in the house for fifteen years. We’re women so we must be experts apparently.” 

“That’s not it!” Jon yelps, sitting up too fast. Lovett reaches out to steady Jon and the baby and Jon slides Izzy into Lovett’s arms to be able to gesture at Emily.“You offer your wisdom all the fucking time, I can’t ask for it?”

Emily, Hanna, and Kenzie are cracking up, but Lovett can’t keep from smiling dopily at Jon, holding Izzy close. “You know how to take care of her you scaredy-cat,” Lovett says fondly. 

“But what if I forgot something?” Jon says worriedly. “She’s so breakable!” 

“You won’t,” Tommy murmurs, leaning over the back of the chair to kiss Jon’s head. “You’re a great dad.” Jon tilts his head up to smile at Tommy. Lovett’s heart feels even fuller than its normal overflowing state. “Also dinner is ready,” Tommy says, louder. 

“Food!” Kenz says delightedly, clambering out of the pool. Emily chucks a towel at her neatly, climbing to her feet and turning to offer Hanna a hand. 

Dan has to yell four times for the boys. When they finally come flying to the table, Wally knocking over three chairs on his way in, Dan turns to take Izzy from Lovett’s arms. She fusses at the transfer and Lovett reaches out a finger. “Shh sweet girl, shh,” he whispers as her tiny hand closes around his finger tightly. Izzy blinks at him, slow and sleepy. Dan rocks her back and forth until her eyes close again.

“You should eat,” Dan says quietly, when Izzy drops Lovett’s hand. Lovett hums in agreement, unhurried. He leans in to kiss Izzy’s soft cheek, then tilts his head up to kiss Dan’s. “Love you,” Dan murmurs.

“You too,” Lovett replies. “Come sit.” He guides Dan with an arm around his shoulders to a chair, dropping another kiss on the top of his head. Jon passes two plates across the table, burgers already topped to Dan and Lovett’s preferences. Lovett takes them both, setting Dan’s in front of him and sitting down in the next chair. 

At the other end of the table, Riley is throwing tomatoes at Wally’s open mouth. Kenz is leaning in towards Tommy, showing him the new designs for the public awareness campaign she’s spearheading at work. Tommy looks overwhelmingly proud. Jon links an ankle around Lovett’s under the table. 

“Whatcha thinking?” Jon asks.

“Just-” Lovett hasn’t figured out the words in five years together. He doesn’t know if he’ll figure them out in the lifetime he hopes he has with them. He’s put some of it into music, in the album they released two years ago, full of sappy love songs. He puts some of it in the things he whispers in their ears in bed. Most of it though, has to be expressed through touches like this, through smiles that he knows they understand. Smiles like the one he gives Jon now, turning his head to gesture to their family around them. “I’m so happy.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> _oh my god it's done_
> 
>  
> 
> This au has eaten so much of my brain for the last couple months and I'm never going to be truly rid of it, but it's DONE. I can talk about these idiots all day, so please come yell at me on tumblr @everyonewillsee or comment below so I feel less like I'm yelling into the void <3


End file.
